Draco Malfoy and the Goblet of Fire
by AllWordsAreMagic
Summary: Unsurprisingly, a portion of "The Goblet of Fire" from Draco and Cedric's perspectives... Let me know what you think!
1. Chapter 1

**Draco Malfoy and the Goblet of Fire**

"Maybe he'll tell us we're allowed to play Quidditch again."

"Yeah, I mean, it's the one year Victor Krum is actually at our school, and you know he'd play for us …"

"Don't be stupid, Goyle," Draco snapped. "He'd play for Durmstrang. And besides, we've never needed Krum's help to beat Potter and his cronies anyway."

The rest of the team chattered behind him as they wound their way up to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore had announced the cancellation of the Inter-House Quidditch Cup at the fall welcome feast, but they had all hoped to at least be able to continue practicing. However, tomorrow classes would be starting for the spring term and the teams still hadn't gotten to so much as pick up their broomsticks. The lack of access to the fields over the past semester had led to the conclusion that there wouldn't be any Quidditch at all this year, and you'd have thought it was the second Inquisition from the way the rest of the Slytherins had ranted about it. At first Draco had been displeased as well, but in the grand scheme of things missing a few matches was a small price to pay for witnessing Potter's very public and inevitable humiliation in the Triwizard Tournament.

Today Dumbledore had called a meeting of all the teams, though, so maybe their whining had been in vain. Why would he call them together if not to reveal that the Quidditch Cup was back on? They were the last ones to arrive at Dumbledore's office. The Gryffindor team glared at them as they filed in, but Draco just sneered at their pathetic attempt at intimidation. It was so typical, Gryffindors couldn't even glare properly.

"Since all house teams are now in attendance, let us begin," Professor Dumbledore announced. "As you know, due to the Triwizard Tournament there is to be no Inter-House Quidditch Cup. In fact, because the grounds must be transformed to accommodate the tournament, there will be no Quidditch of any kind at Hogwarts."

Disgruntled mutters broke out across the room but dissipated quickly as he continued.

"I realize that this has been a great disappointment to you all, and most especially to the seventh years. However, in recognition of your sacrifice, the other headmasters, Mr. Bagman, and I have decided to hold a special public Triwizard Quidditch Championship in the Quidditch World Cup Stadium following the close of the academic term."

Excited whispering erupted amongst the teams, and one idiot, probably a Gryffindor, even let out a loud "Whoop!" A Quidditch championship in the World Cup stadium? It was far better than Draco could have hoped. He would still get to watch Potter self-destruct in front of the school at the Triwizard Tournament, and then would get to fly circles around him in front of the rest of the wizarding world. Of course, that was assuming Potter could even still ride a broom after the next two Triwizard Tasks… Dumbledore raised his hands for silence and the noise died down once more.

"Each school will be represented by one team, so over the next weeks, house captains must draw up a short list of players who they believe would be worthy of representing Hogwarts, and Madame Hooch and I will make all final team decisions. In exchange for the opportunity to participate in this unique sporting event, we would like you to assist Hagrid and Mr. Filch with preparations for the upcoming Triwizard tasks over the next few months. Are there any objections to these arrangements?" He paused and glanced around at the students. "Judging by your eager expressions, I take it there are none. In that case, good luck to you all with the start of the new term! For further team arrangements, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, please report to Mr. Filch's office. Hufflepuff and Slytherin, Hagrid will be expecting you near the forbidden forest."

Draco groaned. His chances of being chosen as Hogwarts Seeker over "golden boy" Diggory and Dumbledore's pet were about as big as a doxie's toenail. On top of that, he'd have to spend the next semester following the hazardous whims of that reckless oaf of a giant. Potter's long-awaited downfall was growing more costly by the minute.

Malcolm showed Cedric the article about Hagrid on the way down from Charms.

"Pretty crazy, huh? I wonder if this means we still have to spend every other Sunday in that dodgy forest?"

Cedric shrugged noncommittally while scanning the paper. He wasn't exactly surprised by the news; after all, Hagrid was practically ten feet tall. It must have taken an immense amount of resolve and dedication for a half-giant to become gamekeeper at Hogwarts, and Cedric sincerely hoped this sensational expose wouldn't jeopardize his position. Then again, he had heard disturbing reports from the third years in Care of Magical Creatures about what seemed to be very lax safety precautions in that class… Regardless, Hagrid's family background was really nobody's business but his own.

Malcolm brought up a good point though, what were they supposed to do about the Sunday meetings? They arrived at the familiar kitchen corridor and Malcolm tapped out the secret rhythm onto the barrels disguising the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. Cedric dropped into a plush armchair, shoved the newspaper into his bag, and took out his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ to get an idea of what they might be covering that day, when Herbert came bustling through the door.

"Hey, Ced, Malcolm. Boy, Charms was rough, wasn't it? I just kept looking out the window and picturing blocking Quaffles left and right in that giant stadium."

"Blocking Quaffles? You'd barely get to see many Quaffles, much less block them, thanks to all those Chasers I'd knock out with my Bludgers!" piped up Michael from a seat in the corner.

"Michael, you were a substitute last year," retorted Malcolm. "I'm sure Ced's going to pick more seasoned players for the Hogwarts team, right Ced?"

"Look, you're all talented players, and you know I would nominate all of you if I could-"

"Yeah, too bad you can't. The newbies like Mikey will be crushed," interrupted Herbert, playfully ruffling Michael's hair. Michael whacked him in the arm with the book he'd been reading.

"Leave Ced alone guys," rejoined Tamsin, descending from the girls' dormitories. "He has enough to worry about without you lot pestering him."

"Nice, Tammy, try to win a spot on the ballot by being a team-player..."

The Hufflepuff teammembers continued to quarrel lightheartedly as Cedric stared into the fireplace, worried about how long their lightheartedness would last. He knew there was truth behind their banter, and soon there would be real dissension among his friends. He dreaded the unavoidable disappointment he would cause those not chosen. Maybe he really could just nominate the entire team. True, Tamsin wasn't the most accurate Chaser, and Michael could stand to be more aggressive as Beater, but he had improved dramatically during last season, and she really _was_ great at bolstering team spirit... He wondered if Madame Hooch would take character into consideration. Probably not.

Cedric sighed. He didn't want to think about any of it. And some students were still wearing those obnoxious buttons from last term, which just made everything worse. The school support was great, but every time he saw those glowing red letters he was reminded of how unprepared he was to face the second task. Plus he really wished they would leave off insulting Harry. No matter what the truth was about his dubious entry into the tournament, he'd been considerate enough to warn Cedric about the dragons, and had managed to perform admirably in the first task despite his young age and clear inexperience. The buttons were in poor taste. Cedric would have to ask the Hufflepuffs to stop wearing them, again. Maybe he'd talk to the Ravenclaws and Slytherins as well.

A bell rang signalling the end of break. The team's conversation had shifted from Quidditch to the article about Hagrid, so he joined their lively discussion as they hurried out of the common room to their next class. The distraction from his concerns was a welcome relief.

5


	2. Chapter 2

The first week of class back from winter break was almost over, just the afternoon's double Potions and Draco would be free for the weekend. All in all, the week had been surprisingly bearable. In fact, it had been downright pleasurable at times. Watching Potter fume over the public exposure of his half-giant pal had been priceless. For a supposed wonderboy, he certainly did have poor taste in friends - mudblood Granger, entirely unremarkable Weasley, and a brute who wasn't even fully human. Draco really couldn't understand Potter's concern for the gamekeeper. At least Granger was bright, and Weasley was, well, not any more idiotic than Crabbe or Goyle, but a half-giant?

As far as Draco was concerned, he'd been doing the public a service by helping bring Hagrid's true nature to light. Everyone knew giants were aggressive and dangerous, and the gamekeeper certainly had demonstrated a homicidal degree of negligence when it came to student safety. It was only a matter of time before someone was seriously injured under his watch. Blast ended skrewts? The big lout didn't even know what they ate. What if it turned out to be students? He'd love to see Potter try to remain loyal to that hairy mountain after his skrewts had eaten a handful of first years.

The way Draco saw it, Potter should be thanking him, really. If it weren't for that article, Hagrid would have been allowed to keep teaching until something awful actually did happen to some young wizard, and then Dumbledore would have had to fire him altogether. At least this way the public outcry would force the half-giant to step down from being a professor, but he would still get to putter around doing whatever it was a gamekeeper did, without running the risk of seriously maiming anyone. Leave it to Potter to completely miss the nuance of the situation.

"Crabbe, Goyle, I'm pretty sure they're planning to feed us again sometime this year; you don't have to eat everything in sight. Hurry up, we're going to be late for Potions."

Crabbe mumbled a reply around a mouthful of sweets, grabbing a pastry in each hand as Goyle pushed him from the table. They hastened out of the Great Hall and down the stairs. As they neared the Potions corridor, Draco heard an unwelcome trio of voices coming from just around the bend.

"... I still say we need to visit him again. We have Harry's cloak."

"Yes, but it's not safe to be out of the castle at night, especially for Harry."

"Hermione, just because I'm a Hogwarts champion doesn't mean I'm somehow more fragile than I was before. We'll be fine. We've done it loads of times, and besides …"

Draco listened briefly to their insipid conversation, but he, Crabbe, and Goyle were going to have to get past them if they wanted to make it to class. As lenient as Snape was, he didn't take kindly to tardiness. Draco took a deep breath and turned to face them.

"Not planning an illicit evening rendezvous, are you? Watch out, I've heard giants are particularly vicious after dark."

"Shove it Malfoy. If it wasn't for you-"

Granger elbowed Weasley in the arm as Professor Moody lumbered out of the Potions classroom at the end of the hallway, glancing at a document. As he approached them, Potter hastily whispered an incantation and Draco's bag exploded in a flurry of parchment and a shower of ink.

"Potter, you foul little-!" Moody's magical eye swiveled to fix him in an icy stare. Draco inhaled sharply and reflexively took a step away from the crazed ex-auror.

"Malfoy, I trust you recall Hogwarts has a strict policy against name-calling. Have you forgotten the last lesson I taught you on manners?"

"Yes, Professor. I mean, no, but Potter-"

"Whatever Potter did or didn't do, I'm sure you brought it on yourself. You're lucky I'm not taking points from the lot o' you for disturbing the peace of the corridor. Now move along, Malfoy here has some cleaning to do."

Weasley, Granger, and Potter scampered down the corridor, barely concealing their giggling, but Crabbe and Goyle continued standing behind Draco, shifting uncertainly.

"Crabbe, Goyle, you too, unless you want me to teach you a lesson as well..." They shook their heads and trundled sheepishly toward the class.

"Professor, Potions is starting and-"

"Then I suggest you clean your mess up quickly, Malfoy. And by the way, you might want to tell your father to stop wasting his pure-blood fortune dabbling in the Dark Arts and buy you some higher quality book bags instead."

Draco could feel the heat rush to his face as Moody stomped past. His whole body was trembling, but whether it was from rage or humiliation he couldn't tell. Probably both. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath to try to calm down, but his hands continued to shake. Bollocks, he didn't have time for this; he had to get to class.

Magic could only help so far in cleaning up shattered potion vials and scattered parchments and quills. He tried using some basic summoning spells and other household incantations, but they tended to only retrieve one item at a time, or pile items in small heaps. One spell even spurted suds all over the floor before he realized he had accidentally used a dish-washing charm. Frustrated, Draco grabbed _The Standard Book of Spells _lying at his feet_, _and gasped as a shard of broken glass sliced open his palm.

"Bloody hell!" he spat. Clasping his left hand shut to keep from getting blood on his clothing, he carefully began brushing off the other books and replacing them one by one in his bag. It took even longer than it should have because holding books while propping his broken satchel upright was surprisingly difficult to do one-handed.

He had picked up the debris in his immediate area and was about to gather the odds and ends from across the corridor, when Cedric Diggory came striding around the corner and slipped in one of the puddles of soap. Luckily he caught himself against the far wall. Surveying the scene bemusedly, he bent to pick up a stray piece of parchment.

"Don't-!" Draco exclaimed. "I mean, there's broken glass."

Diggory straightened quickly. "You've set up quite the obstacle course here," he said with a half-smile. Draco looked at him incredulously. "My bag broke last semester," Diggory explained. "It was a pain in the neck cleaning everything up."

"Right."

Draco continued to watch with distrust as Diggory gingerly picked up the parchment again, shaking it to remove loose bits of glass, then reached for what remained of a potions kit. "So how'd it happen?" he persevered. "Too many books?"

"No," responded Draco, frowning. "Too many Gryffindors."

"Ah, I see." He gathered the other salvageable items from that side of the hallway in silence and handed the small collection to Draco. Draco fumbled awkwardly to put them in his bag, self-consciously avoiding Diggory's gaze.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"It's nothing. Just a cut."

"Do you mind if I take a look? We just learned some healing charms in preparation for our N.E.W.T.s and Professor Flitwick says we're supposed to practice."

Draco regarded him searchingly and Diggory evenly returned his gaze. He hesitantly opened his hand. Clearly he should have paid more attention to the cut before - it was deeper than he remembered, and his entire palm was filled with blood that had even started to run out between his fingers and down his arm. The older boy knit his brows and looked intently at the wound.

"I think I can fix it."

"Really?" Draco was surprised that the Hufflepuff would know such an advanced level of spellwork, and even more surprised that he would bother using it on a Slytherin. He'd never really interacted with Cedric Diggory at all, other than the one or two times Slytherin had destroyed Hufflepuff on the Quidditch field. Why was he helping him at all? Was it some sort of trick? Was it a joke? The other boy looked serious...

Draco nodded and held out his hand. He flinched slightly when Diggory's fingers grasped his, but the older boy remained steady and continued to gaze reassuringly at him.

"_Tergeo!_" With a flick of his wand, the dried blood disappeared. "_Episky!_" Draco gasped as the skin closed with a sharp sting, leaving a small pink line down his palm.

"Sorry, there should be a way to get rid of that scar too, but I'm not exactly sure how."

Draco flexed his fingers experimentally. Everything seemed good as new. He opened his mouth to reply but Diggory continued.

"Oh, by the way, have you seen Professor Moody? I want to talk to him and I heard he might be down here."

"What? Moody?" Draco struggled to switch tracks. "Yeah, he was here but he went back upstairs a while ago."

"Blast. Well, I'd better go find him. If you see him, tell him I was looking for him, will you? Cheers!"

Before Draco could say anything, Diggory had hurried back around the corner and out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

Cedric couldn't believe how quickly time had been flying. It had already been a month since the start of term, and he still hadn't nominated anyone from Hufflepuff for the Hogwarts Quidditch team, despite several increasingly terse reminders from Madame Hooch. At first he thought he could get the team to work together to select the roster.

The first attempt at a team discussion devolved into a gossip circle about dating players from opposing teams, which hit far too close to home. He wasn't sure if he and Cho were officially dating, but all the same he didn't relish the thought of having the details of their interactions dissected by the team. He had tried to make the second meeting more structured, but it had spiraled into a full-blown argument between Michael and Maxine over who was the strongest Beater. When Maxine pulled out her bat and dared Michael to back his words with action, Cedric had been forced to come between them, and abandoned the idea of finding group consensus.

In her last reminder, Madame Hooch had hinted that if he didn't submit the names to her by the end of January she might select the team herself. While it would be nice to be relieved of the pressure of choosing, it didn't seem fair to his players. He was their captain, after all, and it was his responsibility to act in their best interest. So here he was, on the very last day of January, delivering his short list of names.

He had stayed up all Saturday night analyzing the records from the last years of Hogwarts Quidditch, looking for particularly weak or strong points on other teams so he could select the three Hufflepuff players that would complement those most likely to be selected by the other captains. At least he had been able to rule out one player quickly - himself. It would have been exhilarating to fly in the World Cup stadium, but he certainly was getting more than his fair share of the spotlight this year, and besides, Harry was just as good at seeking as he was, and he wouldn't want to jeopardize Cho's chance of making the Hogwarts team either. Most importantly, by taking himself out of the running he could free up one slot for another of his team-members. After hours of deliberating, and several bottles of pumpkin juice provided by the obliging kitchen houselves, he had finalized a list he was satisfied with.

As he was about to knock on the door of Madame Hooch's office, Miles Bletchly, the burly Slytherin Keeper burst out of it.

"Watch it, Hufflepuff!" he barked. Cedric frowned at him disapprovingly. "Oh, Diggory, I didn't see it was you, the Hogwarts Champion hisself. You turnin' in your choices for the Quidditch team?"

"Yes, I am. Are you the new captain for Slytherin then?"

"Not exactly, but since Marcus finally bothered to graduate last year, we had to have someone do the choosin', and I've been on the team longer than the rest. Not a bad job seein' as this way I know I have a shot at playin' in that stadium."

Cedric made a politely vague noise of averral and attempted to edge his way past the formidable sixth year, but to no avail.

"So who'd you pick, then? Shame you can't write-in that cute little Ravenclaw of yours, isn't it? I'll bet she gives you plenty of play off the field though, doesn't she?" Bletchly laughed conspiratorially, as if he and Cedric had been close for years. Cedric tried not to scowl. As far as Cedric could recall, they had barely ever exchanged words, but somehow since he'd become Hogwarts Champion everyone was convinced they were his special friend. Sometimes he felt like a class pet.

"I'll bet her team captain will nominate her; She's really great at grabbing the Snitch-" Bletchly snorted. Damn Quidditch for being so rife with double entendres! "Anyway, I thought our selections were supposed to be confidential."

"Well, mine aren't a surprise. There wasn't much of a choice to be made - there's me and Graham for strength and seniority, and Malfoy."

"Malfoy? I haven't gotten to play against him much, but I've heard he's talented..."

"Yeah maybe," scoffed Bletchly. "I mean, he's not bad. But really, I had to pick him. You know who his dad is, right? I figure if I can get in good with him I'll have the connections I need to really get somewhere-"

"Bletchly, are you still blocking my doorway?" barked a voice from inside the office. "For goodness sake let Diggory get by; he's supposed to be meeting with me!"

Cedric nodded his goodbye to the Slytherin boy and edged past him into Madame Hooch's office. He wasn't sure where exactly Bletchly was trying to get through his sycophancy toward the Malfoy family, but he wasn't sorry that he wouldn't be finding out.


	4. Chapter 4

_Intermediate Transfiguration_ lay open across the arm of the black leather sofa Draco was lounging in. However, not a single page had been turned for the past two hours, thanks to the impromptu round-robin exploding snap competition Blaise Zabini started. Draco was still in the running for first place, but Daphne Greengrass had surprisingly quick reflexes. She might be a tough one to beat. Pansy Parkinson flounced into the room and perched beside Draco on the sofa arm, flipping aimlessly through the book.

"Hey, I had that open to a specific page!"

"It's not like you were reading it right now."

"I know but-" SNAP! One of the cards Draco had been about to pick up burst in a flash of light and puff of smoke. Leave it to Pansy to be just annoying enough to make him lose his concentration. He couldn't afford many more mistakes at this stage in the game.

"So are you not on the Quidditch team anymore, or what?" Pansy asked languidly.

"Am I not what?" He quickly picked up a pair of matching cards. That would help make up for the one he'd just lost. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you know, because Miles and I were chatting in the hallway and he said the whole team was going down to the forest to harvest horklumps or something..."

Blast! The bloody forest! Somehow despite the article, Hagrid was back teaching his ridiculous course. In class on Monday he had reminded them about coming to the forest, but Draco had entirely forgotten. He glanced at the ebony and emerald clock on the mantelpiece. He wasn't too late yet; if he got there quickly maybe nobody would notice.

"Right, I've got to go. Here, you can play for me." He thrust his cards at her and hurried out of the room without waiting for a response. He figured it would take her about thirty seconds to lose all the cards he'd won. She had the reflexes of a streeler snail, and about the intelligence of one too. Thank goodness she liked flirting with sixth years though, or he'd have missed the mandatory forbidden forest session all together.

He dashed up the dungeon stairs and out through the side courtyard into the blinding winter sunlight. He noticed Diggory just down the path in front of him, also racing frantically toward the gamekeeper's ramshackle hut. Apparently the heartthrob of Hogwarts wasn't so perfect after all. Draco picked up his pace, slowing near the bottom of the hill so he wouldn't appear out of breath, and arrived a minute or two after the other boy.

"Ah Malfoy, I almos' thought yeh weren' comin'." Hagrid's flat stare conveyed his feelings on the matter. Draco stared pointedly back; the feelings were mutual. The half-giant broke eye-contact first, glancing toward Diggory.

"The others are a'ready workin' in the fores', but yeh can work with Cedric here in the garden, if tha's alrigh' with you o' course, Cedric?" Draco shifted his challenging glare to Diggory, who looked at him appraisingly and gave him that half-smile again.

"It's fine with me if it's fine with Draco." Draco's brows furrowed slightly, but he shrugged and nodded. It wasn't like either of them had much of a choice anyway.

"Righ' then. I'll jus' show you wha' needs ter be done..."

The two boys jogged through the snow, trying in vain to keep up with the gamekeeper's long strides. Draco kept floundering in Hagrid's gigantic footprints, but somehow Diggory seemed to glide effortlessly. Of course.

"So did you forget about today too?" Diggory inquired, glancing over as Draco stumbled into a particularly deep print and barely managed to keep his footing.

"No," retorted Draco. "I wasn't going to come at all but Snape asked me to so that Hogwarts can have a fighting chance at beating the other schools this spring." Diggory arched one eyebrow, but said nothing. Draco narrowed his eyes accusingly. "What's your excuse? Sewing some more limbs back together?"

"Actually, I was in a meeting with Madame Hooch and totally lost track of time. How is your hand, by the way?"

"Fine." Draco muttered, looking away quickly. He had meant to thank Diggory for healing his hand weeks ago, when it happened, but now it was just too awkward. And of course the older boy would have a legitimate reason for being late. He should have known.

They continued trudging the rest of the way to the garden in silence. When they arrived, Hagrid explained what they would be doing: clearing the snow from the cabbage patch and then breaking up the ground to find hibernating flesh eating slugs. Any they found were to be collected in a large plastic bucket, presumably as food for what Draco could only assume was some kind of dangerous beast the gamekeeper was raising illegally. Or maybe giants considered flesh eating slugs a delicacy. Draco wouldn't be surprised.

It was hard work. They pushed the snow to the edges of the garden using banishing charms, but the frozen earth had to be turned over manually with shovels so as not to accidentally kill any of the slugs, because that would be truly tragic. Within minutes of digging they had both taken off their outer coats, despite the chill.

"Well, even if we don't have Quidditch practice, I guess at least we're still getting exercise," quipped Diggory.

"Yeah. Right," Draco grumbled, pausing to wipe sweat from his forehead with one of his gloves. "I'm just surprised we don't have to do anything even more insane."

"What do you mean?" Diggory had taken a break from digging as well, and leaned on his shovel looking at Draco expectantly. Draco scowled at the ground, mentally chiding himself for having said anything at all. But now he had to respond or it would seem strange. He sighed.

"Hagrid's activities are always deadly. Before we started on unicorns with Gubbly-Plank, he was making us take those bloody skrewts on walks."

"No!"

Draco snapped his head up, ready to defend his assertion, but the other boy's intent expression displayed genuine interest, not challenge.

"Yeah," he started hesitantly. "Yeah, he did. Crabbe's robes caught on fire and Goyle got scraped up pretty bad. If it had been a battle, I would have said the skrewts won. They're not exactly your ideal household pet, as it turns out. Who knew?" He hadn't really meant to be funny, but Diggory chuckled and Draco smiled tentatively. "I guess we got loads of exercise that day too, but I'd still definitely rather be practicing Quidditch."

"Touché," laughed Diggory. "Then again, I'd probably rather be practicing Quidditch than doing almost anything else."

"Even being the glorious Hogwarts champion?" Draco asked without thinking. He looked up to gauge the other boy's reaction, but rather than actually being upset, Diggory rolled his eyes in mock irritation.

"Especially being the Hogwarts champion. Although I wouldn't have minded rescheduling that game against Gryffindor last year. Playing in the middle of a thunderstorm is definitely less than ideal."

"I don't know, I thought that one was particularly exciting with the dementors and all."

"Yeah, well you didn't have to worry about being fried to your broom by a bolt of lightning while simultaneously having your soul sucked out."

Draco smiled in spite of himself. "You mean that's not what you hope for in every match?"

Diggory snorted. "Surprising as it may be, no. I tend to go for ones in which you can actually see where you're flying. The game against Slytherin last year had perfect conditions. I wish it could always be like that."

"Yeah, me too, seeing as we trounced you."

"You got lucky catching the Snitch; Michael was subbing as Beater and if he hadn't accidentally hit me with that Bludger-"

"Then we still would have beat you by 70 points," Draco interjected. Cedric smiled grudgingly.

"Nah, we'd have caught up. Malcolm and Heidi could take your Chasers any day..."

Their playful Quidditch sparring continued as they resumed digging. Soon the work didn't seem quite so arduous. When the bucket was filled with motionless slugs, one corner of the garden still remained to be scoured, so Diggory went in search of another container to put them in.

As soon as he'd vanished around the back of Hagrid's hut, Crabbe and Goyle came tromping toward the garden from the other direction. Draco stopped for a moment to watch their approach with disquiet. No doubt they had some argument that needed sorting out and they'd come to solicit Draco's help, as always.

"Hullo Malfoy," grunted Crabbe. Draco nodded in greeting and looked at his ungainly friends, waiting.

"The rest of the team is down in the forest," mumbled Goyle. "We were wondering where you were."

"Well, now you've found me. Excellent sleuthing, both of you." Diggory appeared behind the two Slytherins, carrying a questionable looking bucket covered with dark brown stains. Probably blood, knowing Hagrid. Draco just hoped it wasn't anything more noxious than that. He nodded in greeting to Diggory as he vaulted over the garden fence, and only then did Crabbe and Goyle notice his presence. Goyle furrowed his brow in consternation and looked at Draco.

"You're working with him? But I thought you said him and the rest of Hufflepuff spent so much time with muggle-borns that they were all filthy bloodtrai-" Draco's eyes shot to Goyle, wide with alarm.

"No!" he hastily interrupted. "I don't know what you're talking about. You should get your hearing checked." Crabbe gave him a puzzled look.

"Goyle's right. You definitely said even if Diggory was champion, the whole lot of them were still-"

"Shut it!" Draco snapped sharply. He stole a worried glance at Diggory, who was watching him stonily. "Whatever you both think you heard, I'm telling you now it doesn't matter. It's wrong, so just forget it, unless you want to do your own Potions homework for the rest of the semester. Got it?" Crabbe and Goyle nodded dumbly, clearly confused. Draco inhaled deeply and then continued, slowly regaining composure. "Right. So you'd better get back to whatever you were doing in the forest. We've still got a lot to finish up here."

Crabbe looked at Goyle and shrugged. "Sure... We'll see you back in the common room then." He pulled Goyle behind him as they plodded back toward the tree-line. Draco took another long breath watching them recede, and then lifted his gaze to meet the older boy's eyes. They were still fixed on him, slightly narrowed and unblinking.

"They shouldn't have said that," ventured Draco, attempting to reclaim his usual tone of superiority.

"Right. They should have waited until you all got back to the Slytherin common room. Then it would have been totally fine." Draco glanced down quickly, biting his lip.

"Look, Diggory... " He faltered, took a breath, and plowed forward. "It wasn't what you think. Well, it was, but..." He trailed off at a complete loss as to how to rectify the situation.

"I know what it was, and you're right," stated Diggory. Draco looked up skeptically. "I am a 'bloodtraitor' because I could care less about whether someone is pureblood or muggle-born. And frankly everyone in Hufflepuff feels the same way, so there's no sense denying it. The real question is, what are you going to do about it now that I've admitted to it freely? Are you going to stop working with me?"

"No."

"Make a bonfire out of those Triwizard buttons you designed with my face on them?"

"Don't be absurd." Draco muttered, staring at the ground.

"What if I was muggle-born? What if my parents had never even heard of magic? Would you really kick me out of Hogwarts? Snap my wand in half?"

"No."

"So then what's the point? What's the point of being closed-minded? You're all talk, Draco. You clearly don't believe in it strongly enough to act on it." Draco continued scowling at the frozen earth, mindlessly kicking at a clod of dirt in silence. What did Diggory know about any of it anyway? The older boy looked at him thoughtfully.

"Honestly, I think you're not nearly as bad a person as you think you are." Draco's head jerked up. An expression of wide-eyed shock momentarily transformed his features, before being instantly replaced by his customary frown.

"What are you talking about? You don't even know me," he retorted.

"Not really, no. But I do know that if you had actually been as cruel and selfish as everyone says, you wouldn't have cared what names your friends called me."

"I didn't care. I just …" Draco cast about for a plausible excuse. "I just didn't feel like talking to them. They're always hounding me with their stupid questions."

"Right," said Diggory, clearly unconvinced. He continued looking speculatively at Draco. "So you want people to think you're cruel and selfish."

"What? No. I didn't say that."

"Then why did you argue with me?"

"I wasn't arguing with you." The Hufflepuff arched an eyebrow mockingly. Draco scowled at him. He was not a Potions project to be prodded and analyzed. Diggory really ought to learn to mind his own business.

"Look, I wasn't trying to insult you," Diggory continued. "I was just curious more than anything else. All I know about you are things I've heard in rumours. And I guess I know you play Quidditch for Slytherin and I know your father is-"

"Really? What do you know my father is? I'm sure you have all the inside knowledge, being Hogwarts champion and all," Draco snarled.

"No, I was just going to-"

"You were just going to pry into my family so you can try to abuse our connections like everyone else does," he spat. "What about your father? It's too bad I don't want to bore people to death with bragging, or show off by brow-beating house elves because I've heard he's particularly good at both." The other boy stood in mute surprise, his face flushed. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Hagrid approached from behind the garden fence, and blithely interrupted.

"How's it comin' along then? Looks like you found a whole mess of slugs," he said, gesturing to the bucket.

"Yes," Diggory replied curtly. "We're finished." He looked straight at the gamekeeper, refusing to make eyecontact with Draco.

"Tha's grand. Nex' time I'll have ter find yeh a job tha's more fun. Maybe workin' with some o' the animals? We'll see. Well, get along back to the castle then. You'll be wantin' yer tea in a bit, I'd expect."

Hagrid hummed a tuneless song as he collected the garden tools and ambled toward his hut while Diggory brusquely gathered his coat and strode purposefully from the garden, leaving Draco alone in the snow pensively watching the older boy's figure recede. When Diggory disappeared at the top of the hill, Draco broke out of his reverie, scowling. He violently kicked a clump of ice crystals, sending shards spiraling through the air. Diggory really didn't know him at all.


	5. Chapter 5

Cedric leaned against the wall just outside of Professor Sprout's office near the greenhouses, resting his head back on the cold stone. The second task was only ten days away and he still had no idea how he was going to breathe under water for an entire hour, not to mention fend off merpeople and all manner of other aggressive aquatic beings. Who knew what terrifying beasts lurked in the depths of Hogwarts' lake?

The impromptu meeting with the head of Hufflepuff hadn't made the situation any better. Professor Sprout meant well, but she just assured him she was certain he would do well and emphasized how proud Hufflepuff was to have one of its own representing Hogwarts in the tournament. Her supreme confidence in his abilities was misplaced. This was the only shot at glory Hufflepuff had known for decades, if not centuries, and he was going to ruin it. He sighed.

His feelings of guilt and anxiety were exacerbated by the fact that he had just skipped the team's second session of working on the castle grounds with Hagrid. He hadn't intended to, but when he got down to the meeting point, Hagrid had cheerfully suggested he and Malfoy work together again and he just couldn't do it. It wasn't that he was still angry at the Slytherin boy, exactly, but he had so much else on his mind that he didn't need one more issue to deal with. He had made up a lame excuse of having to meet with Professor Sprout and hurried back up the stairs, but not before seeing the wounded expression that flashed across the other boy's face.

In the two weeks since the last ill-fated session, Cedric had only run into Malfoy a handful of times. The first time he passed him in the hallway had been the day after their episode in the garden. Malfoy approached and started to say something, but Cedric pretended he hadn't noticed and continued walking. He really had been in a hurry, but looking back on it he wished he hadn't been quite so rude. After that he'd seen Malfoy a few more times, but the other boy never tried to make contact again; he just followed Cedric silently with his eyes.

He felt bad, but what was he supposed to do about it? Cedric had just been trying to engage the kid in conversation. It was Malfoy who had thrown the first stone. Frankly, it was Malfoy who had thrown _all_ the stones. Cedric sighed again. He was probably making a bigger deal of the whole thing than it really was. It was likely that Malfoy had already forgotten about it. Interactions like that one were bound to be part of his daily routine.

Cedric ran a hand through his dark, wind-tousled hair and straightened to walk back inside, when he noticed figures climbing the path from the forest. The teams were returning from their work. He hadn't realized he'd wasted so much time in the library before going to call on Professor Sprout. He ducked into the nearest greenhouse, hoping that nobody had noticed him.

The other students streamed past in a wave of flushed faces and animated chatter. When he no longer heard their voices in the courtyard, Cedric tentatively opened the greenhouse door. Malfoy was standing against the nearest wall, blowing on his hands to stay warm. He looked up suddenly as Cedric tried to subtly close the door again, then sneered half-heartedly.

"I was right. You didn't really have a meeting, did you?" His hiding spot entirely useless now, Cedric stepped out into the yard, letting the greenhouse door close behind him.

"Yes I did, I just finished talking with Professor Sprout."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Well of course you talked with her. You're not a total idiot; you wouldn't have skipped work without creating an alibi. But still, you didn't have a meeting scheduled before, did you? You've been trying to avoid me." Malfoy's icy blue eyes bored into him. Cedric forced himself to maintain eye contact though. He didn't want it to seem like he was hiding anything, because he wasn't.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you suddenly realized you had to leave class only after Hagrid assigned us to work together. I saw the way you looked, like you'd just been told you'd have to harvest Bubotuber pus." Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disdain. Cedric frowned and started walking briskly toward the castle door. He wished he could just ignore the Slytherin now like he had in the hallway. Something about him was so infuriating.

"I really don't have time to quarrel with you."

"I'm sure," Malfoy scoffed. "Plus, you're _way_ too good of a guy to admit that you ditched because of me." Cedric stopped and shook his head in exasperation.

"Why do you do this to yourself anyway?"

"Do what?"

"You force people to confirm your worst beliefs about yourself."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "So it's true then. You were avoiding me," he said levelly.

"Is that what you want to hear?"

"I want to hear the truth, but you're like everyone else at this school: too much of a coward to face what's real," Malfoy spat. Cedric was fed up with this game. He didn't need to be dealing with an emotionally manipulative Slytherin underclassman. Maybe some truth would do the little git good.

"You want the truth? The truth is that I have been staying away from you because I don't enjoy being insulted. And I'm sure I'm not the first person to avoid you considering how frequently you abuse other people. It's a wonder anyone talks to you at all. And just so you know, you were right about this too: the students who do talk to you only do it to get in good with your precious father."

The color drained from Draco's face and he inhaled sharply, as if he'd been struck. Cedric knew he had gone too far and instantly regretted it. It was turning out to be a crap day all around. Cedric ran his hands through his hair. They stood in awkward silence, Cedric staring darkly into space and Draco looking at the ground and biting his lip. After a few moments, the younger boy took a deep breath and forced a shaky smile.

"Right. Well, I wouldn't really expect anything less from my housemates. That's Slytherin for you, cutting and ambitious." Cedric wasn't sure how to respond. Draco glanced up at him uncertainly, and his attempted smile faltered. He took another deep breath before continuing. "Look... I didn't mean to argue with you again. I just... I mean, I came here because I wanted to apologize for last week. So... sorry."

Cedric looked at the younger boy, but Draco refused to meet his gaze, anxiously staring at the ground and fidgeting with a tuft of brown grass instead. Cedric was a bit embarrassed that Draco had been first to apologize. He wondered if the boy had ever voluntarily apologized for anything before in his life. Cedric doubted it.

"Thanks for the apology. I'm sorry about just now... I shouldn't have been so harsh."

"It's fine," Draco mumbled.

"And sorry I ditched out on you at the forest." Draco nodded. Cedric still felt guilty though. "How was it today anyway? Any more frozen slugs?" he asked in a falsely bright tone.

Draco looked up at him searchingly. "No, worse," he ventured hesitantly. "We had to try to catch doxies."

"Why in the world would you do that? Other than to destroy them, of course." Cedric's approach seemed to be working; the other boy wasn't scowling quite so deeply now.

"Apparently Hagrid, being the genius he is, wants to harvest their venom."

"Yikes. So how'd it go?"

"Well, the doxies thought it was a game and spent the whole time turning cartwheels in the air and blowing bubbles at us." The corner of Draco's mouth turned up, almost in a smile.

"Bubbles?" There were bubbles under water, right? Bubbles that had oxygen in them? What if there was a way to make a kind of permanent bubble... Cedric started fidgeting with his bag, running through charms and incantations in his head.

"Yeah, it was disgusting. I mean, if I wanted to get drooled on I'd go hang out with some Gryffindors. But-" Cedric had sunk so deeply into his own mind that he barely heard the other boy still talking. He had to get somewhere private where he could test out some new ideas...

"Hey, sorry Draco," Cedric distractedly interrupted, glancing hurriedly toward the castle. "I have to go. I just remembered there's something I have to do."

Draco pursed his lips. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"What?" Cedric looked back at him in a daze, still largely absorbed in his own thoughts.

"Make up transparent excuses," Draco responded flatly. "Didn't we just talk about this? You might as well just be honest. It's a lot less work for you and I've heard it all before anyway." Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion and then realized suddenly what the other boy was implying.

"No, it's not that..." Cedric floundered, trying to think of a way to justify his departure without giving away the nature of the secret Triwizard Task.

"Sure. Of course not. Well, enjoy your 'meeting' or whatever it was you just magically remembered you had to do." Draco picked up his bag roughly and slung it across his shoulder. "And since I'm sure you'll be far too busy to chat if we run into each other in the hallway, good luck next week on the second task." He paused glowering at the snowy grass. "I'm sure... I'm sure you'll be great."

Cedric stood bewildered as Draco rushed past him with his head lowered, down the windowed corridor. Cedric felt uneasy about their interaction; He hadn't meant to insult the younger boy again, but he appeared to have done so anyway. Maybe he would have a chance to set it right some other time, but he'd worry about that later. Just now he needed to go practice some bubble spells.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco watched in apprehension with the rest of the crowd as the minutes ticked by. The veela girl had already been disqualified, but surely one of the others would return soon. An hour was an awfully long time to stay under water. Frankly, it was also an awfully long time to sit just looking at water, which was pretty much all they had been doing. Clearly whoever came up with this task had no concept of how to create an engaging spectator event.

The gong sounded, heralding the end of the hour. Draco hoped that nothing had gone wrong. What if someone was hurt? How would the professors even know? Well, Potter could sink for all he cared, but the other two… He really ought to forget about the "real" Hogwarts champion as well. Diggory had made his feelings about Draco abundantly clear. They'd run into each other in the hallway a few times over the past week and Diggory always frowned as soon as he saw Draco. Of course, the Hufflepuff captain was constantly surrounded by a gaggle of adoring fangirls who seemed to think he was the best thing since flying broomsticks, so Draco couldn't have gotten close even if he had wanted to talk to him, which he didn't.

Suddenly, large ripples formed on the lake, distracting him from his thoughts. Two figures broke through the surface. Cedric made it back! Without thinking, Draco grinned and joined the cheering. He rationalized that he was really applauding the fact that someone had beat Potter. That was all.

Krum burst out of the water a few moments later, still partially in shark form. Unfortunately Potter returned in one piece shortly thereafter, carrying two hostages rather than his allotted one, like the attention-seeking prat he was. He couldn't possibly just do what he was supposed to, could he?

While the judges discussed final scores, Draco talked idly with Crabbe and Goyle about how many points each champion should be awarded. Goyle somehow managed to not grasp the basic concept that the scores were independent of one another, and therefore argued nobody but Krum should get points so that he could get all of them. Crabbe wanted the veela to get fifty points just because she was fit. Despite the fact that the other two were clearly imbeciles, all three of them unanimously agreed Potter should get zero. During their discussion, Draco happened to glance over to where the champions were drying off. Diggory looked up and waved, smiling. Draco turned to check behind him to see who the other boy was gesturing to, but it was hard to tell. Half the crowd appeared to be shouting congratulations to one champion or another. Probably some fangirl. Good thing Cho hadn't noticed. Just then, Ludo Bagman's amplified voice rang out across the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftaness Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions as follows: Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points." Crabbe looked thoroughly put out, but Draco just sneered at him amidst the polite applause. Had he really expected her to win based on looks alone? Maybe if Crabbe had been judge...

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points." Draco grinned and applauded enthusiastically, before remembering that the other boy probably hated him. His smile faded and his hands fell to his side, as Bagman continued.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points. Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However... Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Draco scowled. Potter had practically tied with Cedric even though he hadn't followed the rules? That was absurd! Why bother having points at all? Why not have Dumbledore declare his little pet the winner and be done with it? Potter had about as much moral fiber as a scone. Thank goodness for Karkaroff. He was the only one with sense out of the whole lot of judges.

Bagman finished his announcements about the upcoming final task and the crowd began streaming toward the castle. Crabbe and Goyle discussed what the next task might be. Goyle thought the champions would have to fight giants bare-fisted, with no wands, until Draco pointed out that it would defeat the point of it being a _wizard_ tournament if there was no magic involved. Crabbe countered that maybe champions would have to wrestle their way out of a pit filled with veela, but Draco didn't even bother to respond to that idea.

Even though the student body was slowly making its way inside, the champions were unable to move from where they stood near the castle door because of the swarms of congratulating friends and housemates that crowded around them. Madame Pomfrey fluttered nearby, trying anxiously to usher them in out of the cold, but to no avail. Diggory seemed to have a particularly large mob of admirers. Not that Draco was looking. In fact, as Draco neared the entrance he willed himself to look anywhere but at the champions, and to join the conversation of the Slytherins around him, laughing over-loud at their jokes.

"Hey!" Diggory shouted. Without thinking, Draco glanced behind him again to see who the Hufflepuff was addressing. "Draco!"

He snapped his head back around to see Diggory politely but purposefully making his way through the throng toward him. Draco stopped in his tracks, suspicious of what the older boy intended. When Diggory emerged from the press of the crowd, he motioned for Draco to join him off to the side of the path. The other Slytherins gave Draco inquiring looks but he forced himself to nonchalantly saunter away from them, calling over his shoulder "Go on, I'll join you in a minute!"

Diggory smiled as Draco approached. "What did you think of the task? I tried to wave to you, but I don't think you saw."

"Oh," muttered Draco. Why would Diggory have been waving at him if he couldn't stand being around him?

"Look, I owe you," stated Diggory

"What?" Draco was confused. Owed him what? Was Diggory trying to threaten him somehow? He narrowed his eyes at the other boy.

"If it hadn't been for you, I never would have gotten all those points today because you helped me come up with the spell to use." Diggory still wasn't making any sense. Maybe all that time under water had prevented oxygen flow to his brain.

"I never told you to-"

"No, I know, but you gave me the idea when we were talking about doxies. If you hadn't mentioned bubbles I wouldn't have thought to use the Bubble Head Charm. So thanks!"

Draco frowned. "I really didn't do anything. I'm sure you would have come up with it on your own."

"Maybe, but I hadn't." Diggory ran his hands through his hair. "I mean, I was starting to totally freak out, but that idea I got from you changed everything. So even if you didn't realize it, you really saved me out there. I just thought you should know." Draco sneered half-heartedly.

"Sure, it was no problem. Just let me know next time you need a brilliant idea and I'll be happy to insult you until you feel adequately inspired." Diggory's brow furrowed.

"Oh and about the other day, I apologize for leaving so abruptly. I swear it didn't have anything to do with you. I really wanted to try to act on the idea you'd given me, so I was really distracted."

"Right," Draco intoned flatly. Diggory ran his hands through his hair again, frowning. He looked at Draco searchingly.

"You understand, right? You don't think I hate you or anything, do you?"

"No," Draco scoffed, a bit belatedly. "I'm not a moron."

"You wouldn't have to be a moron to think that. I acted like a total jerk to you, and I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?"

"Yeah... sure," Draco mumbled, staring at the ground.

"Friends?" Draco's eyes widened momentarily and he glanced up at Diggory in perplexed surprise. The older boy extended his hand, but Draco looked quickly away. "I promise not to insult your father if you promise not to insult mine." Draco opened his mouth to retort but happened to notice Diggory smirk playfully. He paused. Well, the boy had a point; Making jokes about other people's fathers did tend to turn out badly, even if the jokes were well deserved. Draco hesitantly smiled in return and shook his hand.

"Friends."

Cedric grinned. "Great! I'll see you around then!" Draco nodded and they parted ways, Cedric bounding to rejoin the other champions by the castle wall, and Draco returning to the herd of students entering the school. He knew it wasn't a big deal, that Cedric probably had thousands of "friends," but for some reason he couldn't stop smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

Even though the second task had been four days ago, Cedric's housemates still hadn't stopped peppering him with questions about it, and today was no exception. As he trudged down the muddy path to the forest with the rest of the Hufflepuff team, they had asked for even more detailed descriptions of everything, from whether or not being under water slowed the casting of spells, to how Cho felt about being the "thing he would most miss." He wasn't sure about that last one, and made a mental note to ask her.

They reached the appointed meeting spot slightly after the Slytherin team. Cedric nodded a greeting to Draco, who smiled hesitantly back. When they were all assembled, Hagrid began delegating tasks, as usual. He assigned half of the Hufflepuff team to try to catch more doxies, and the other half, including Cedric, thankfully, to look for specimines of some fast-growing wild hedge. The Slytherin team would be rehabilitating part of the forest burned by the dragons from the first task.

As the students began to drift off to their appointed work stations, Hagrid called out, "Not you, Malfoy. You'll be gettin' rid o' the tentacula vines near the garden, by yerself."

Cedric turned to see the other boy's dismayed reaction.

"Why would I want to work by myself?" Draco spat, scowling at the gamekeeper.

"I don' know that yeh would, but yer parents never taught you to play nice with others. No sense lettin' one bad apple spoil the whole lot."

Draco's eyes opened in hurt surprise and color rushed to his face as some of the Hufflepuffs laughed. Cedric glowered admonishment at them and strode toward the Slytherin boy.

"I'll work with him." Draco flashed him a desperate but confused look, before focusing quickly back on the ground. Hagrid scratched his head in obvious bewilderment.

"Yeh really want ter work with Malfoy?"

"Yes," Cedric responded amiably.

"Wha' about the rest o' your team?"

"I'm sure they'll get along fine without me. Besides, I've been interested in learning more about the properties of venemous tentacula."

"Really? Well, alrigh' then, Cedric. I just thought because o' last time that …" Cedric continued gazing at him disarmingly. The game Keeper shrugged. "Suit yerself. I'll show yeh wha' needs to be done."

For the second time, Cedric found himself walking next to Draco on the way to Hagrid's garden. This time the ground was covered with wet dirt instead of snow, but the silence between them was much the same. He had to admit, it was sort of nice to not be constantly answering questions. Even better, he didn't have to worry about any upcoming Triwizard Task. Not yet anyway. As he was reflecting on his momentary reprieve, Cedric slipped in a slick patch of mud, but before he had time to realize he was falling, Draco caught his arm and pulled him upright. Cedric laughed.

"Boy, that puddle really came out of nowhere!"

Draco gave him a grudging smile. "In this sodding forest, I wouldn't be surprised if it actually had. You alright then?"

"Yeah, thanks." They continued without saying anything for a few minutes, Cedric enjoying the brisk spring breeze, Draco frowning as usual at the ground. Just before they arrived at the garden, the younger boy glanced furtively toward Hagrid, who still had his back to them.

"Hey, Diggory-I mean, Cedric." Cedric had been a bit ahead, but when he noticed the other boy had stopped walking, he backtracked a few paces. "Look, I appreciate what you did for me back there. But... you don't really have to work with me. If you want to go back and be with your friends, that's fine, really... I swear I won't get offended or think you hate me or anything."

Cedric looked at him thoughtfully. The Slytherin boy was hard to read. Draco's words had been straight-forward, but the mix of emotions he displayed was anything but. Based on the Slytherin boy's clenched jaw and flared nostrils, he looked like he was daring Cedric to disagree with him. But his eyes reflected something else entirely. Anxiety? Doubt? Cedric didn't quite know what the other boy was feeling. He was willing to bet Draco didn't know either. Cedric ran his hands through his hair.

"Nah, I spend all week with them. Besides, wrestling with plants that shoot venom sounds like loads of fun!" Draco looked up at him skeptically.

"Yeah, about as much fun as collecting frozen flesh eating slugs."

"This is way more exciting, actually; with tentacula we have the chance to become permanently disfigured due to poison exposure."

"Too bad with your face nobody will be able to tell the difference." As soon as the words left his mouth, Draco's sardonic smile froze and he glanced worriedly up at Cedric, but Cedric laughed.

"Lucky with yours it would be an improvement." Draco smirked appreciatively.

"Hey, you two! Did yeh get caught in sinkin' sand? These vines won't take care o' themselves!" Hagrid called across the yard. Cedric smiled and Draco smiled cautiously back at him. Together they hurried toward the garden.

Draco had always thought reading the news was boring, but this year had certainly taught him how false that was, at least when the news was written by Rita Skeeter. The _Witch Weekly _article linking Granger, Krum, and Potter in a tortured love triangle had come out a week ago, but he still hadn't tired of talking about it, and neither had anyone else at Hogwarts. He only wished he'd thought of the story first. Draco had complimented Pansy for her involvement in it, but now she wouldn't stop batting her eyes and beaming at him. It was quite disconcerting. He made a mental note to never compliment a girl again, which wouldn't be difficult since he couldn't recall the last time he'd complimented one anyway.

McGonagall had held Crabbe and Goyle back in Transfiguration because neither of them could manage to turn their lizard into a bird, even though it was one of the more basic intra-species spells and was supposed to just be review. That left Draco to wander down to lunch on his own for a change. On a whim, he decided to try a different route through the labyrinthine hallways, but somehow he ended up near the classroom for History of Magic, which was certainly not where he wanted to be. As he was reorienting himself, he heard Cedric's voice nearby.

"I already told you, I don't even know Ms. Granger." He sounded thoroughly irritated. When Draco rounded the corner, he understood why. The older boy stood in front of one of the classroom doors but his exit was blocked by a small horde of Beauxbatons students. If their obnoxious French accents weren't irritating enough, their effeminate silk uniforms certainly were. The tallest boy in the group was even wearing a fuzzy powder blue pullover with the Beauxbatons crest embroidered on it in gold. Pathetic.

"Well Victor Krum deed not know her eizer, but zat did not stop him," sniped a waifish girl near the front.

"But Andrea," the tall blonde boy observed conspiratorially, "Zis well-groomed English boy has never even looked at our Fleur. I think zat he is not liking girls..."

"It's really none of your business," Cedric snapped. He tried to push his way through them, but the blonde boy stood stubbornly in his way.

"Perhaps you envy Ms. Granger all zat attention from Victor-"

"Hey Frenchie," Draco called, striding toward the group. "Your mother wrote. She wants her jumper back." The Beauxbatons students turned to stare at him in surprise.

"Of course," he continued lazily, "I told her to let you keep it. It can't possibly make you look like a bigger prat than you already are." The blonde boy spluttered angrily and the rest of the Beauxbatons students glared at him with distaste, but Cedric smiled gratefully at him. He made use of the distraction to escape the Beauxbatons ring, but glanced back over his shoulder when the blonde boy loudly resumed his cutting gossip.

"You going to lunch?" Draco asked, drawing Cedric's attention away from their taunts.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he replied haltingly. He joined Draco and they started down the corridor together. Draco didn't have anything to say. If he had been with other Slytherins, he would have insulted the Beauxbatons students, but somehow that didn't seem like an approach well suited to a Hufflepuff, so they walked without talking. Halfway down the long hallway, the other boy broke out of his brooding silence.

"They're not usually like that, you know," Cedric stated.

"The French students?" Draco was glad Cedric had started speaking because it helped ease the awkwardness, but he still didn't have anything witty to contribute. Maybe if the older boy kept talking he could find a way to work in some snide remarks about the French accents...

"Yeah, they were really friendly before, but ever since the last task..." Cedric paused and ran his fingers distractedly through his dark hair. "I don't know. They've just been, well... like you saw. And that article certainly hasn't helped. I would have guessed Harry and Victor would take heat for it, but for some reason they've been using it against me, even though I was the only one not in the bloody thing."

"It's because their veela princess doesn't know how to use a wand," Draco responded reflexively.

"What?" Cedric looked puzzled. Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. It took all the bite out of his incisive remarks when he had to explain them, but at least the older boy didn't look quite as upset as he had before.

"They're jealous," Draco offered. "Their champion has come in last on both the tasks, and now you're in first place."

"Tied for first place. Don't forget Harry."

"I wish I could," Draco retorted. "But they can't very well torment 'the boy who lived,' can they? They might as well harass Dumbledore and Moody and all the other 'heroes' of the first wizard war."

"You don't seem to have a problem tormenting him," Cedric quipped half-heartedly.

"Yeah, well that's different. It's personal, and he started it... probably." Even though he hadn't really meant it as a joke, Draco was pleased to see Cedric almost smile. "Besides, it's for his own good. He needs to be reminded of how lame he is to balance all that fame and attention."

Cedric frowned and looked away abruptly. Draco was confused. Had he unwittingly upset him again? He tried to replay the last few moments in his mind but couldn't make any sense of the Hufflepuff boy's reaction.

"If I said something wrong..." Draco started, tentatively.

"No, sorry, it wasn't you," Cedric replied. "It's just my dad-" He stopped walking and broke off sharply, glancing warily at Draco. Draco grimaced.

"We promised we wouldn't insult each others' fathers, remember? In fact, thanks to that, your dad is probably the safest topic you could possibly discuss, seeing as it's the only one I can't harass you about."

"Right." Cedric smiled wanly before knitting his brows again. "It's just... he's always wanted me to be the best at everything, but ever since the first article by Rita Skeeter, people have joked about the fact that I barely get mentioned, that I'm not really a Triwizard champion. So Dad keeps sending me owls about how I'm being too modest and how I need to put myself forward so I don't let my family down..." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair again.

"And this latest article is the stupidest of all because it's not even about the tournament. It's a sensationalized romance story in a weekly witch magazine, and yet somehow my father is still disappointed that I'm not in it. He even suggested I should try being more 'demonstrative' with Cho, or even consider breaking off with her in public! It's absurd! I mean, that's not really the kind of thing I want to be known for."

"It won't be," replied Draco. "You'll win the Triwizard tournament."

"And nobody will care! Just like nobody cares that I'm even in the bloody thing! Aside from those Beauxbatons tossers, of course." Cedric clenched his hands into fists, scowling. "Nobody has noticed I'm in the tournament since Harry's name flew out of the goblet. I mean, nothing against Harry. He's a good guy and all-"

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"No, he is," Cedric retorted, glaring at Draco reproachfully. He took a deep breath before continuing more quietly. "It's just hard to be constantly in his shadow, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Draco muttered. Cedric sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Sometimes I wish my name had never been drawn at all..."

Draco stood gazing at the other boy uncertainly, biting his lip. He didn't know how to react. How would he feel if he'd been selected as Hogwarts champion and the Beauxbatons students were bothering him instead of Cedric? It would be like facing a small army of Potters and Grangers and Weasleys. But in more pretentious robes. And he hadn't even thought about the articles before, about the fact that Cedric's name had only really appeared once, in a photo caption. Draco's father wouldn't have been pleased about him being overlooked either. Of course, his father had enough influence at the ministry to ensure that wouldn't happen, but still... It was really all Potter's fault. The four-eyed brat didn't care about anything but aggrandizing himself. Cedric took a deep breath and stood up, distracting Draco from his thoughts.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you. It's stupid for me to be complaining like this especially since I'm the one who chose to be in the competition in the first place, and it's really petty to be like, 'poor me, my dad cares too much.' I'm just being ungrateful... So, sorry." Cedric readjusted his bag and sighed, turning to continue down the hallway. Draco frowned and remained rooted in place.

"No," he started, unsure of why he had spoken up, and of what to say next. Cedric looked at him questioningly. Draco took a deep breath, frowning. "It's not stupid. I mean... I think sometimes there's just too much pressure to measure up."

"...Maybe you're right. I still feel like I'm just whining."

"Trust me, you're not. I tried to help Crabbe study for his Transfiguration final last term; I know what whining sounds like." Cedric shot him a rueful smile and Draco smiled back, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Right," Cedric said. "Well, thanks for listening all the same. I guess we'd better get going if we want to get any food."

"True, but I think the houselves are still on their week-long Eastern European Durmstrang theme. I won't be too disappointed if we've missed the garlic tripe soup course." Cedric snorted.

"Ah, but what about the mystery meat gelatin that usually follows it? You wouldn't want to miss that, would you?" They continued discussing the culinary catastrophes of the preceding week as they made their way down to the Great Hall, the Beauxbatons students' barbs all but forgotten.


	8. Chapter 8

Cedric hadn't realized how spoiled he'd been for the past three months with no Triwizard Tasks to worry about. Ever since Mr. Bagman had explained the third task to the champions on Thursday, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. He hadn't even been able to sleep for the past three nights since then, and when he had, his dreams consisted of running through deadly mazes, desperately searching for a way out. At this rate it was going to be an excruciatingly long three and a half weeks until the final task.

He jogged down to Hagrid's with the rest of the Hufflepuff team for their usual bi-weekly forest rendezvous. He was willing to bet that he shouldn't even be joining them, since by working with the gamekeeper he might gain an unfair perspective on the upcoming task. It appeared Hagrid had begun to realize that as well, because for the past two months he had consistently kept Cedric away from what the rest of the teams were doing, almost always pairing him with Draco on some menial groundskeeping task.

Even though the Slytherin boy was widely disliked by the rest of the school, Cedric preferred to work with him than with the other Hufflepuffs. He was surrounded with Hufflepuff students all week, so it was nice to diversify his social circle. Besides, Draco was an interesting challenge. The younger boy was hypersensitive to insult, to the point where simple conversations could devolve into arguments without warning. Working with him was never easy, but Cedric was drawn to him.

Draco had unique perspectives on everything, from Quidditch tactics ("just fly faster") to dating ("just don't do it"), and most importantly for today, he didn't ask too many questions. As if it hadn't been bad enough obsessing over the task whenever he was alone, every few minutes Cedric had had to fill someone in on the details of the upcoming task, or discuss possible plans of action he could take in it, or hazard guesses as to what terrifying creatures he was likely to encounter. Plus with the end of the tournament in sight, his teammates were becoming more persistent in their inquiries about who had been nominated for the Hogwarts Quidditch team. He needed a distraction and Draco was sure to provide it. Even getting in an argument was better than feeling this constant anxiety.

They joined the Slytherins at the meeting location, arranging themselves in their habitual self-segregated team clusters. As soon as he saw Cedric, Hagrid motioned him aside from the rest of the students and addressed him in hushed tones.

"Cedric, you've had yer chat with Mr. Bagman, haven't yeh?" Cedric nodded his assent. "Righ', well I've been thinkin' that maybe yeh shouldn't be joinin' us in the forest anymore. We wouldn't want yeh to get any ideas abou' you-know-what."

Cedric smiled wryly. He certainly did know what, and so did the rest of the school, so it seemed rather silly to act like the task was a huge secret. Then again, if rumours were true, he was lucky Hagrid hadn't already accidentally revealed some of the real secrets involved in it. The gamekeeper didn't exactly have an impeccable track record for keeping confidences.

Cedric shrugged his shoulders and nodded good-naturedly to indicate his acquiescence, then turned to hike back up the way he'd come. So much for being distracted from his worries. Now he'd have an entire afternoon away from his friends with nothing to do but worry. Maybe he could try practicing some spells to use in the tournament. With nobody to practice them on, though, it was likely to be a fruitless exercise.

He'd made it about halfway up the hill, lost in thought, when he heard a voice call from below, "Hey! Wait up!"

He turned to see Draco hurrying up the path behind him. Draco slowed his pace as he drew closer, slightly winded. Cedric was confused. Had the gamekeeper changed his mind?

"What's going on? Did Hagrid send you after me?" Cedric asked.

"You could say that," Draco responded, catching his breath.

"Bummer. It's a lot of work to climb all the way up here just to fetch me back."

"What? Oh, no, bollocks to that," Draco scoffed. "We're not going back to the forest. I'm coming to help you practice, you know, for the thrilling final task." The Slytherin boy grinned. Cedric was skeptical. It wasn't like Hagrid to let students shirk their duties, especially Slytherins. Maybe Draco was just skipping.

"Really? Are you sure he meant for you to get out of whatever they're doing in the forest?"

"Yeah. He made it pretty clear." Draco smirked. "It was my idea, of course, but he's so dense that it didn't take much convincing to get him to think it was his. I just reminded him what a 'bad apple' I am, and hinted rather strongly that I might be liable to sabotage his precious task set-up."

Cedric smiled reluctantly. "So he's worried you'll damage some plants, but is totally fine having you cast dangerous spells at a fellow student?"

"Apparently. Although I'm pretty sure he assumed you'd be doing all the spell-casting. He probably just wanted to provide an opportunity for somebody to pummel me with hexes," Draco commented sardonically. As an afterthought he added, "You weren't planning to practice any Unforgivable Curses, were you?" A playful half-smile flickered across the younger boy's face, belying his mock concern.

"That depends," Cedric countered. "Are you going to ask me who I chose for the Quidditch championship, or postulate gruesome ways I'll get obliterated in the final task? Or go back to tried and true subjects and inquire about why I haven't put the moves on Ms. Granger yet?"

Draco snorted. "Well, you're far too chivalrous to put your own name in for Seeker and the rest of the positions don't really concern me. That means the Hogwarts team is out. Dumbledore is too much of a wuss to put anything truly deadly in that maze. So even though the Beauxbatons girl and Potter may muck things up due to sheer incompetence, I'm sure you'll come out fine. And Granger?" He curled his lip in disdain. "I already have to see too much of her frizzy hair each week as it is, so I certainly don't want to talk about her in my free time. Now, Cho on the other hand …." Draco smiled mischievously.

"If I recall correctly, the last time I tried to talk about Cho, you pretended to vomit."

"I couldn't help it," Draco said in wide-eyed innocence. "I was worried you'd go into a diabetic coma if you kept spouting all that sappiness."

"Thanks for the concern," Cedric replied wryly.

"No problem. Somebody has to look out for the Hogwarts champion." They reached the side door to the castle and Cedric turned toward the stairway leading to the classrooms. He assumed Draco would return to his common room now that he was free of his groundskeeping duties, but rather than heading down in the direction of Slytherin quarters, he continued to follow Cedric.

"Wait," Cedric said. "Are you actually going to help me practice?" A cloud passed over the other boy's features. He furrowed his brow momentarily, glancing at Cedric, but then shrugged nonchalantly.

"Why not? It's bound to be more interesting than studying anyway."

"Don't be so sure. What if I decide to prepare for the task by reading about the life cycle of streeler snails?"

"Expecting a rampaging horde of them are you?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"You never know."

"Well, if you're not confident in your ability to defeat some snails, then I really ought to go change those bets I placed last week..."

"Aww, you were betting on me?" Cedric teased. "It's nice to know you care."

The Slytherin boy smiled. "Don't be so sure. You seem to forget that I am inherently self-interested. Right now you have the most points and therefore the highest chance of winning; betting on you is good for me. No caring needed."

"So then out of rational, calculated self-interest you're betting on Potter too, I assume?"

Draco snorted in contempt. "No. Potter sucks."

"Ah, flawless logic. Clearly emotions play no part in your decision-making process."

The younger boy smirked grudgingly. "I never said I didn't have emotions. We Slytherins have plenty of feelings, they're just all self-centered and Machiavellian ones."

"Ha, nice word choice. Are you practicing for a vocabulary quiz in History of Magic? If I recall correctly, Machiavelli was one of the more influential, if controversial, wizards of the Renaissance."

"Thanks professor. I was hoping for an impromptu lesson on boring trivia." Draco rolled his eyes in exaggerated irritation and Cedric laughed.

"Look out, snails will be next!" They entered one of the deserted classrooms. Draco looked around appraisingly.

"This is our Arithmancy room," Cedric explained. "Professor Vector said I could use it to practice if I wanted." He ran his hand through his hair, thinking. "I guess we could push the desks over and clear a space here in the front."

"So what spells do you want to work on, anyway?" Draco asked, flicking his wand to stack several chairs against the wall.

"I'm not sure," Cedric responded. He levitated a row of desks toward the window on the far side of the room. "Mr. Bagman was pretty vague on the details, so we could be facing anything, really. I'll probably need a whole bunch of protective spells."

"Poor Hagrid. It sounds like I'll be the one pummeling you, instead of the other way around." The Slytherin boy sent the last of the desks to rest on top of the others in the corner.

"Well, don't get too comfortable. I'm sure I'll need to work on some curses too."

Draco drew his wand and grinned. "Fire away."

It proved to be quite a useful practice session. Cedric started with some basic hexes to warm up, and moved on to more difficult spells. He was quite pleased with the progress he made on his casting of _Oppugno _- he was able to send all shapes and sizes of objects tearing after the other boy. Luckily Draco had quick reflexes and was able to fend them off, even the teacher's desk, although in hindsight Cedric had probably taken too big of a risk with that one.

After an hour or two, they switched roles, with Draco firing curses and Cedric warding them off. For a fourth year, Draco had a surprisingly large repertoire of harmful spells. It was helpful practice because Cedric had to be ready to constantly change his defensive strategy in creative ways, but he sincerely hoped he never had to face Draco in a duel. By the end, it was all Cedric could do to block the younger boy's attacks. His reaction times began to slow noticeably, until one spell came whizzing toward him so quickly that he barely had time to point his wand. The hex would have hit him full-on, but Draco shot a counter-curse that stopped it just in time. Cedric smiled gratefully, pausing to catch his breath. He was relieved to see the other boy was breathing heavily as well; At least he wasn't the only one who'd been challenged.

"That was intense," Cedric panted, lifting two chairs down from a stack and dropping into one in exhaustion. Draco crossed the room to join him.

"And just think, you'll get the fun of doing all that again, against giant monsters in a creepy maze." Cedric sent a broken quill zooming at the other boy's face, but Draco swatted it away, laughing.

Cedric smiled. "Hey, thanks for helping me today. You're a good guy." Draco snorted derisively. "What's so funny?"

"You're just so-" Draco stopped himself, and then paused as if searching for a word. "...idealistic."

"Idealistic?" Cedric was curious about what the other boy had been going to say. He doubted the original descriptor had been so diplomatic, but he appreciated Draco's effort at self-editing all the same. "What makes you say that?"

"Nothing." The Slytherin boy shrugged and looked at the ground, while Cedric waited expectantly. After a few moments Draco added, "It's just naive to say a person is good or bad. That's all."

"Why is it naive?" Cedric looked at Draco searchingly. "Don't you think you're a good person?" The other boy flared his nostrils and refused to meet his gaze.

"It's not about me," he replied testily. "That's not the point. It's just stupid in general. You act like it's easy to judge people, but sometimes they don't have a choice - they just are what they are and you can't change them."

"No, that _is_ the point," Cedric earnestly responded. "I mean, nobody is born good or bad. You are defined by your choices."

The Slytherin boy snorted again and muttered acidly, "We can't all be heroes like you and Potter."

Cedric frowned. "I'm not a hero. And that's not what I mean anyway. It's not like you have to go around saving lives to be a good person. It's about all the little things you do every day - whether or not you choose to help someone with an assignment, or smile at them in the hallway, or pick up a parchment they dropped. That's what makes you a good person. Not all the rest of it. There are plenty of flashy 'heroes' out there who would probably make lousy friends, and plenty of individuals who are truly good people even though they're unrecognized or even misunderstood by the rest of the world. So yeah, maybe others think of people like 'me and Potter' as good people, but it's only because we've made conscious choices to act that way."

Cedric lapsed into silence while Draco stared darkly at the ground with his arms crossed, tapping his foot against the chair leg. Cedric should have known this would happen. He should have known better than to keep pressing the other boy, but for some reason he never was able to stop himself. It was odd because even when his opinion differed from his housemates, he never got in arguments with them. Maybe it was because he could always find a way to understand where they were coming from, but Draco was just so… different. That was probably what compelled Cedric to keep digging at issues he knew Draco didn't want to talk about - he was curious about how the other boy saw the world. And if he was truly honest with himself, he had to admit part of him was convinced that if he could get Draco to see another perspective maybe the younger boy would be slightly happier, or at least less defensive.

Cedric sighed. Draco was right; it really wasn't his place to judge. Maybe the other boy was perfectly satisfied with the way things were. But if that was the case, why did he always look so sullen? Cedric took a deep breath and willed himself to let it go.

Draco glanced fleetingly at him, biting his lip. "You make it sound so easy," he muttered.

Cedric snapped his head around to look at the other boy, surprised he had actually spoken. He paused to collect his thoughts. "It's not. Not really. Some days I'd definitely rather tell the whole world to sod off. But I guess those are the times that count the most."

"Count the most? Is there someone keeping score? I sure hope I win," Draco drawled sarcastically.

"I think you keep your own score, so you get to decide if you've won or not."

"Excellent. I'll award myself an enormous trophy that dwarfs your giant Triwizard goblet." Cedric chuckled, causing Draco to smile hesitantly before his countenance clouded again. He frowned at the floor. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, kicking absentmindedly at his book bag. "That's not how it works anyway. It would be idiotic to set up an actual game like that. Anyone could declare themselves the champion if there was no referee to say which points counted."

"You wouldn't need a referee if everyone agreed to play by a common set of rules."

"I nominate you to let Madame Hooch know she'll no longer be needed at our Quidditch matches. Don't be surprised if Slytherin happens to forget some of your utopian regulations though."

"That's the thing. It's not that Slytherin students don't know the rules, they just decide not to follow them. It's a choice, an individual choice."

"A team choice," Draco interjected.

"Maybe it feels that way, but each person on the team gets to make up their own mind about how they want to play."

Draco snorted. "I'm sure your Hufflepuffs would be thrilled if you decided to go against team strategy and do what you thought was 'right.'"

"No, probably not-"

"See, there are some decisions you don't get to make," Draco interrupted heatedly. "Sometimes, a lot of times, your moves are chosen for you before you even get a chance to find out what your options are."

"I don't think that's true." Draco narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to interject again, but Cedric hurried on. "Yeah, in Quidditch you have team plays and strategies and such, but in each moment it is you as an individual who chooses whether or not to follow the strategy. And you just have to take your team's reaction into account when you decide how to act. I think Quidditch is an imperfect metaphor because in real life you don't have a team. You have friends and family, but when it comes right down to it your life is just yours, and your choices are too. It's sort of nice to be not connected to anyone."

"Yeah, being alone your whole life is totally awesome," Draco sniped.

Cedric smiled grudgingly. "That's not what I meant. Just, because you're ultimately independent, you have complete control over how you react to the world. And if whatever you're doing isn't working for you, you can change it."

"Right," the Slytherin boy scoffed. "It's no big deal for you to talk about changing. It's not like you'd ever need to, you're so naturally good and perfect."

"Perfect?" Cedric arched an eyebrow. "Good lord no! And not good either, not 'naturally' anyway. It's just that I've had a lot of practice acting like I'm 'good.' I'm definitely not _inherently_ better than…" Cedric glanced at the younger boy, who was biting his lip and frowning at the floor, "than anyone else."

"How do you know that?" Draco shot. Cedric turned to look at him and the other boy took a breath and continued self-consciously. "I mean, how can you be completely certain some people aren't just…" His question trailed off into silence.

"Just bad?" Cedric finished for him. He shrugged. "I guess I'm not completely certain..." The Slytherin boy's gaze flickered to meet his in apparent surprise, but then quickly shifted away again. "You can't be completely certain about anything. But I'm pretty sure I'm right. Ninety-nine percent sure."

"Humph."

"What? Does that make me 'idealistic'?"

"No," Draco retorted. "It just makes you annoying."

Cedric smiled. "Brilliant. That's what I was going for."

A hesitant smile played across the Slytherin boy's features before he stood up and grabbed his book bag. "I should head out. I still have an essay to finish for Potions tomorrow."

Cedric rose to join him. "Right, I should finish my readings too." He slung his bag across his shoulder and followed Draco toward the door.

As they reached the threshold, Draco glanced at him. "Hey, if you ever want help practicing again, let me know."

"Better than studying?" Cedric teased.

"Yeah, _inherently_ better," the Slytherin boy shot back, with a playful smirk. Cedric laughed and they went their separate ways down the corridor.

Looking back on it as he walked back to the common room, the whole conversation felt very surreal. Had he really just gotten into a philosophical debate with Draco Malfoy? Somehow he doubted that Draco had bargained for that when he volunteered to help him today, but apparently it hadn't turned out too badly seeing as they were still speaking to one another. Frankly, it had been a good reminder for himself as well. He kept getting so worried about the final task that it felt overwhelming, but really, as he'd kept trying to impress to the other boy, he could choose how to react. If he just took things one day at a time and did his best to prepare himself, he'd be fine. There was no sense in driving himself crazy about it. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? He was sure that no matter what he'd have to face or how poorly he performed, ultimately he'd still be all right in the end. Cedric breathed deeply, letting the idea sink in, and felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was quite funny, really. Six months ago he would never have guessed he'd get so many helpful ideas from the most infamously misanthropic student at Hogwarts. He'd have to remember to thank Draco again the next time he saw him.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco paced anxiously in the empty courtyard, wondering where she was. He knew she wasn't even supposed to be on Hogwarts grounds, but she'd told him she'd meet him near the greenhouse after his last class. No doubt she had some sensational explanation for her tardiness. Rita Skeeter always had a story.

She'd sent him an owl last week to ask if he'd be interested in providing some quotes for the final story she was writing about the Triwizard Tournament, and as always he'd been happy to oblige. Getting to see your name in print was brilliant. He was sure that some day the articles would actually be about him instead of just including his comments on other people, but this was good practice building relationships with members of the press. Besides, maybe he could make sure Cedric didn't get overlooked again.

It had been just a little over a week since their first practice session together and already they had met five other times, almost every day. Thank goodness none of his classes were challenging or Draco would be falling behind. Ironically, he found that working with Cedric made it easier to study. It forced him to manage his time more efficiently and plan ahead, because he never knew how much time they'd end up spending together. It also allowed him to put a lot of what he was learning into practice, especially from Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and it gave him something to look forward to. It was sort of pathetic, but he realized he hadn't had that since the end of the Quidditch season last year.

He still wasn't sure what to make of the Hufflepuff boy. When they first started working together in the forest, they constantly bickered, even though now Draco couldn't quite remember what most of the arguments had been about. For some reason, though, Cedric had continued to partner with him and they hadn't really argued now for a while. The older boy could still be too intense sometimes, and often asked irritating questions, but overall he was nice. In fact, Draco was surprised how much he genuinely enjoyed spending time with him, especially considering that he was a Hufflepuff. They weren't exactly known for their witty repartee, but Cedric could hold his own...

He was interrupted from his thoughts as two unwanted figures approached over the crest of the hill. Now he'd have to figure out some explanation for Crabbe and Goyle that would get them to leave him alone. On second thought, what if other students happened to be wandering up the path while he was chatting with Rita? Maybe he could put them to good use.

"Crabbe, Goyle!" Draco called. They seemed to notice him for the first time and trudged over to his secluded corner of the courtyard. "I'm glad I found you. I've been looking for you both." Goyle looked quizzically at Crabbe, who shrugged. "I have an important job for you."

"A job?" Goyle repeated, uncertainly.

"Yes, I need you to stand guard around the courtyard to make sure no other students pass this way. I have a top secret interview with a certain member of the press and we can't be interrupted."

Goyle still looked confused, but Crabbe nodded. "Right. Rita wants some more dirt on Harry, does she?"

"Probably." Draco frowned. He hadn't really thought about Potter, but Crabbe was probably right; Rita would want quotes about him. As far as Draco was concerned, though, Potter had gotten his turn in the limelight. It was high time for someone else to have a chance. "Crabbe, go stand near the top of the path you just climbed and give a shout if anyone is coming. Goyle, same thing, but go stand by that hallway door to make sure nobody comes out of the school."

"You want us to shout?" Goyle asked.

"Yeah, but don't be obvious about it. Pretend you hurt yourself or something. Be creative." He knew creativity would be a long-shot for either of them, but hopefully they could at least handle the rest. The two boys trundled off to their posts a few paces away, just as Draco saw a familiar flash of green. He looked down to see a beetle perched on the sleeve of his robe.

"Hello, Rita. Nice to see you again." He moved to stand in the shadow of the large trees next to the greenhouse and gently picked the beetle up, cupping his hands around her so she was hidden from view. Not that anyone could really see her anyway, she was so small. But at least this way his mouth was partially covered too, so he didn't look quite as insane.

Because she was in her beetle form, she couldn't ask any questions, which was to Draco's advantage. Of course, he knew she would want some sort of intrigue, so Draco talked quietly into his hands about how the students all thought the competition was rigged ever since Potter's name came out of the goblet. How else could you explain how well he'd been scoring in the competition? He was clearly cheating. Potter should be banned from the tournament. Everyone knew that Cedric was the real Hogwarts champion. All the students liked and respected him. He'd begun to describe how hard-working the other boy was when the beetle bit him on his palm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

Since Rita couldn't answer, Draco continued with his previous line of thought, only to feel the sharp sting again. "Hey! If you don't stop that I'll squash you!"

The beetle buzzed her wings angrily and darted out of his hands, zooming toward the greenhouse. Draco followed her, annoyed. Inside the greenhouse, he saw that she had transformed into her customary human form, complete with platinum curls, shocking lime skirt, and quick quotes quill. She looked as irritated as he felt.

"Draco, what do you think you're doing?" she snapped.

"I'm giving you quotes about the tournament, like you wanted."

"No, you're giving me an ode to Cedric Diggory." Draco scowled but Rita just peered at him coolly over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses. "That is not what my readers want."

"Well maybe they should. He's a better champion than Potter will ever be."

"I don't care if he is Merlin reincarnated," she retorted. "He doesn't have the name recognition. It's Potter my readers care about."

Draco snorted. "Which is why you write such flattering, accurate depictions of him."

"All my articles are based on fact, even if there are occasional liberties taken for the sake of artistic expression."

"I never knew increasing sales was a form of artistic expression."

Rita stared at him icily. "Are you questioning my integrity? Let's not call the kettle black." Draco glared at her, but she ignored him. "Now, back to the matter at hand. How do you know Potter is cheating?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is that Cedric-"

"Yes, yes. We all know; Cedric is god's greatest gift to the wizarding world. That's not what I asked. Is Potter cheating?"

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Who cares? You'll write whatever you want anyway." She narrowed her eyes at him. "No, I haven't personally seen him exchanging tournament secrets, but he has always been Dumbledore's pet and now Moody seems particularly attached to him. You can bet they're helping him. Plus he has all sorts of other dubious friends who could be feeding him information, like werewolves and half-giants, and snakes for all I know..."

Rita's quill had begun hurrying over her notebook, but it stopped in confusion as her carefully powdered brow furrowed slightly. "Snakes?"

"Yeah, well he can talk to them, can't he? So-"

"Potter is a parselmouth?" Her emerald eyes lit up excitedly, making Draco feel ill at ease. "You're sure? You're not making this up?"

"Are you questioning my integrity now? I'm not a liar." Draco retorted. He reluctantly continued. "Yes, I'm sure. I saw him speak it myself in our second year. He almost got a snake to attack another student during a duel. Why else would the whole school have believed he was behind the opening of the chamber of secrets?"

The quick quotes quill had resumed its note-taking and Rita scanned what it had recorded. A sly smile played across her features. "Hm, yes. I think this will work nicely." She snapped her notebook shut and returned it to her purse. "Thank you Draco. You've been quite helpful after all. Drop me a line if you come across any other tidbits of interest, but I really must dash. Don't be a stranger now." In a blink, she transfigured back into her beetle form and flew toward the greenhouse door.

"Wait!" Draco called. "Come back! I didn't get to- I mean, that's not..." He trailed off discouraged as she disappeared into the sunny summer afternoon. That wasn't at all how he had envisioned the interview going. He kicked a heavy stack of pots in frustration, and then immediately wished he hadn't. It figured. Nothing he did ever turned out right. Draco shook his foot in a futile effort to get it to stop throbbing.

He stepped out of the greenhouse into the blinding sunlight, composing his thoughts as he walked to find Crabbe and Goyle. Maybe the afternoon hadn't been a total waste. If nothing else, he'd tried to tell a better story. It wasn't his fault if other people were too stupid to listen to him. Besides, maybe she'd at least put in some of the things he'd said about Cedric, and that would be better than nothing. He sighed and hurried toward the path.


	10. Chapter 10

The morning of the final Triwizard Task had gone entirely too quickly for Cedric's liking. He was sure when he looked back on today the entire thing would be a blur of anxiety. The silver lining was that because everything was going so rapidly, it would all be over soon. What a huge relief - no more Triwizard Tasks to worry about, ever! He had forgotten what that felt like.

No matter what, it was bound to feel better than he did today. The morning had gotten off to a rocky start when the daily post arrived during breakfast, and with it the latest _Daily Prophet_. Rita had written yet another scathing piece about Harry. Cedric felt really sorry for him; It was the last thing any of them needed to deal with, especially today.

Of course, he had to admit that he hadn't exactly been thrilled to read the article either - feeling invisible didn't really improve his confidence - and Draco's malicious quotes in it had just been the icing on the cake. For a moment Cedric had felt profoundly disappointed, although he knew he shouldn't have been surprised. He had glanced over to where the Slytherins were eating and noticed Draco was looking over a copy of the paper as well. However, far from the triumphant expression Cedric had expected to see him wearing, given the boy's prominence in the story, Draco was glowering darkly and unconsciously crushing the muffin he'd been holding. It was only when Vincent Crabbe began talking at him and making faces toward Harry that the blonde Slytherin had broken from his reverie and quickly masked his negative emotions, replacing his previous expression with a bitterly mocking sneer. Although he wasn't certain how to interpret the other boy's reaction to the article, for some reason Cedric felt reassured that Draco had been at least somewhat as displeased by it as he had been.

They weren't the only ones who had been less than keen on the article. Cedric's father had taken it really hard, going so far as to be rude to Harry when the champions' families assembled after breakfast. Cedric had tried to smooth things over, but his father's nerves were wound as tightly as his own. It had taken his mother's steady presence to diffuse the situation.

Luckily as soon as Harry left the room, his father calmed down a bit, probably in part because he didn't want to lose face in front of Viktor's family. Cedric's father had been quite excited about meeting the Krums, thanks to their son's impressive Quidditch career. Viktor's parents were nice, if somewhat more emotionally restrained than his own. They chatted pleasantly with his parents about wizarding education and the impending Triwizard Task. Only Viktor's mother spoke English, though, so she and Viktor patiently translated the conversation into Bulgarian for Viktor's father.

Cedric realized with chagrin that even though he'd spent the year competing against the Durmstrang student, he didn't know much at all about him or his family. He really ought to have made more of an effort to become friends with the visiting students, but somehow he hadn't realized how little he knew them until now, when it was almost too late. Well, at least they still had a few days left to correct that.

Cedric suggested they all spend the day together, and everyone agreed with enthusiasm. As much fun as it would be to learn more about the Krums, Cedric was particularly grateful for the opportunity to relax with his parents without agenda. It was comforting to feel their strong support today, both his mother's calm confidence and his father's fierce pride. He just hoped he would be able to live up to their expectations.

They left the Great Hall and Cedric showed them around the Hogwarts castle and grounds, with many colorful anecdotes provided by his father. His cursory tour took much of the morning, so after lunch Viktor brought them all on board the Durmstrang ship. He'd been raised with magic his entire life, but Cedric was still impressed with the spaciousness of the ship's interior. Although nowhere near as large as Hogwarts, the Durmstrang quarters included a snack shop, a first aid center, and an entire level of study rooms and combat practice yards, plus a whole floor of sleeping berths for the students. Toward the prow there was even an ice rink surrounded by snow, where students were practicing some sort of Eastern European winter sport. Viktor had been about to explain it to Cedric and his parents, but Karkaroff had hurried over and interrupted to announce grandly that the celebratory feast would be starting soon. Cedric's stomach immediately tied itself in a knot. He was sure he wouldn't be able to eat a bite, and judging by Viktor's dazed expression, he wouldn't be the only one going hungry.

As they walked back to the castle, Cedric's father had no problem filling the silence left by the two students, animatedly discussing the tournament and his predictions for Cedric's victory, with Viktor's father countering intermittently in Bulgarian. Normally Cedric would have been embarrassed by his father's boasting, but he barely even noticed the conversation taking place around him.

Cedric's mother and Mrs. Krum led the way back to the great hall, deep in conversation, followed by Cedric's father and Mr. Krum, and then the two champions trailing behind in a haze of unspoken shared worry. Most of the adults had just crossed the threshold into the hall and were headed toward the table at the far end, when Cedric noticed Draco just ahead of him. He was waiting near the doorway, scanning the crowd with a tense expression, but his face lit up when he spied Cedric. The knot in Cedric's stomach loosened slightly and he smiled as he strode to meet the other boy.

"Hey," greeted Draco brightly. "I wanted to wish you good luck tonight and..." His features clouded as he glanced away, biting his lip. "... and apologize about the article. That wasn't what I-" He looked back up at Cedric, earnestly, but then suddenly broke off.

Cedric looked behind him to see what had distracted the younger boy, and noticed his father had approached and was watching them intently. Cedric beamed and beckoned him over. "Dad, I'd like you to meet my friend Draco. He's been helping me practice for the tournament."

His smile faltered when his father furrowed his brow and looked accusingly at the Slytherin boy. "Draco Malfoy?"

Draco nodded uncertainly. "Pleased to meet you."

"Mhm," Cedric's father inclined his head perfunctorily, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Excuse me a moment. I have something I need to discuss with my son." Draco frowned slightly but nodded again in acquiescence. Cedric's father guided him a few paces away, turning their backs to the other boy.

"Cedric, what is the meaning of this?"

"Of what?"

"Your mother and I didn't raise you to be friends with that kind of person."

"What?" Cedric was shocked. His father had always had an exaggerated sense of family pride, but he'd never been judgmental or cruel before. He glanced behind him, but Draco was adjusting the strap of his bag and appeared not to have heard. Cedric lowered his voice. "I can't believe you're saying that. You don't even know him!"

"Do you know who his father is? I know him far better than I would like to and -"

"He is not his father!"

"I understand you're under a lot of stress right now, but I just don't want to see you get hurt by a boy like him. I'm trying to look out for you."

"Well I don't need you to! Not like this anyway." Cedric inhaled deeply to try to steady himself. He couldn't believe this was happening, especially today of all days. "… Look, we can talk about this later. Why don't you go let Mum know I'll join you all at the table in a bit?" His father opened his mouth as if to argue further, but Cedric cut him off. "Dad, please."

His father gave a curt nod. "Don't be long. You wouldn't want to miss your feast." He turned and strode resolutely toward the table for champions and their families. Cedric sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He turned toward Draco, who was still looking at the ground, and forced himself to assume an air of nonchalance.

"Sorry, my dad wanted to talk to me about something," Cedric apologized lightly as he walked back to the other boy.

Draco looked up and gave a cheerless smile. "It's fine. I know."

"Right-" Cedric was about to casually thank him for his well-wishes, when he realized what the other boy had actually said. He frowned, concerned. "Wait, what do you mean you know?" Draco looked away hurriedly. "Did you hear what- what we were talking about?" The other boy remained silent and refused to meet Cedric's gaze. Heat rushed to Cedric's face. "Oh Draco. I'm so sorry!"

"It's not a big deal," Draco muttered, looking darkly at the floor.

"Yes it is! I swear he's not a bad person he just-"

"Just doesn't want me to hurt you. It's fine, really. I get it."

Cedric searched desperately for a way to get through to the other boy, to set things right. "No, it's not fine. He shouldn't have-"

"Yes, he should!" Draco interjected. He paused and took a deep breath, continuing self-consciously. "He's right... I mean, I wouldn't want to hurt you, but I'm sure inevitably somehow I'd-"

"Draco stop." The Slytherin boy looked up sharply at the force behind Cedric's words. "I'm not going to get hurt. And even if I did, it wouldn't be anything we couldn't figure out together. Ok? Yeah maybe we got into some minor quarrels before, but I'm glad I've gotten to know you over the past semester and -" Draco snorted and looked away again.

"No, listen!" Cedric grabbed Draco's arm and his bright blue eyes snapped up to meet Cedric's grey ones in surprise. Cedric gazed at him intently, willing Draco to believe him. "I'm _really_ glad you're my friend... You know that, right?"

Draco's eyes remained locked on his. After several moments the fear and uncertainty that had filled the younger boy's gaze melted away. He smiled tentatively and gave a barely perceptible nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Cedric sighed in relief. "Ok, good..." He stood a few seconds in thought.

"Are you planning to bring my arm with you into that maze?" Draco asked, smirking wryly.

Cedric laughed and released his grip on the other boy. "I don't know. Does it come with its own wand? Because then it could be pretty handy. Literally"

Draco rolled his eyes, grinning. "I'm not exactly in the habit of loaning out limbs; I don't trust Madame Pomfrey's medical skills that much. Besides, you'll be excellent without it."

"Thanks." Cedric's smile faded and he inhaled deeply and glanced away, the familiar coil in his stomach beginning to tighten once more. This time it was Draco who placed his hand on Cedric's arm. The motion was awkward and seemed foreign to the younger boy, but he shot Cedric a rueful half-smile in a clear effort at being reassuring.

"Really, Cedric, you are. You're going to be brilliant."

Cedric smiled gratefully. "Right. Well, I should head in. I'll catch you after the tournament."

"You'd better, because I plan to drink butterbeer out of your Triwizard cup at the awards banquet."

Cedric grinned. He gave Draco a small wave and turned to join his family at the champions' table. Even though he was still worried about the upcoming task, the mental image of the Slytherin boy using the enormous trophy as a drinking mug lightened his mood considerably. Cedric figured getting a chance to see Draco try that might just be a good enough incentive to win.


	11. Chapter 11

Draco seriously wanted to have words with whoever was in charge of designing these Triwizard Tasks. He'd thought staring at a lake for one hour was bad enough, but staring at a giant hedge for several hours was even worse. Not only was it boring for all the spectators, but it seemed recklessly negligent on the part of the professors. How did they know that the champions weren't being eaten alive by one of Hagrid's ferocious pets? Or by the hedge itself for that matter? He was certain Cedric would be able to take care of himself, but he had far lower expectations for the rest of them. Sure, they were supposed to shoot sparks into the air if they were in trouble, but that was completely absurd. If they could use their wands to do anything, wouldn't they be using them to defend themselves instead of to shoot sparks? At least the weather was nice so the students weren't all shivering in the stands like last time.

When the task had first started, the Hogwarts band had played, the delegation from Beauxbatons performed some dances (definitely Crabbe's favorite part), and the Durmstrang students showed off their acrobatic tumbling. The whole production had taken about an hour, after which everyone turned their attention to the maze, expectantly awaiting the return of the champions.

True to form, Fleur had emerged first. She had gotten attacked by a blood-sucking bugbear and fled down an alley within the maze, only to find herself cornered at a dead-end. Of course _she_ had used the silly sparks instead of trying to fight her way out. Then again, it wasn't as if she'd had a real chance of winning anyway.

Draco had fully expected Potter to come crawling out after her, but maybe he really had been given an easier time of it, thanks to his chums Dumbledore and Moody. Instead, it was Krum who'd exited next. The conditions surrounding his disqualification were still strangely obscure even though he'd come back a while ago. From Draco's vantage toward the middle of the stands, it appeared Krum had been stupefied when he was first brought out of the maze, but even now he was still acting strangely and seemed unable to answer the professors' questions. That's what they got for sticking a bunch of students in an impenetrable danger-filled labyrinth. Maybe next time they'd think to monitor the champions so they'd know exactly what happened to them.

Now it was just a matter of waiting until Potter managed to do something foolhardy enough to get himself into trouble so Cedric could be declared the winner once and for all. However, Potter seemed to be taking his sweet time doing so. Draco wished Cedric would hurry up and find the cup already, or he'd be tempted to go back to the castle to hassle the houselves into doling out leftovers from the evening's feast. Draco wasn't the only one losing interest in the competition. A nearby Ravenclaw girl started reading that morning's inane _Daily Prophet_.Just to Draco's right, Blaise pulled out a pack of cards and began playing exploding snaps with Goyle, Miles, and Daphne. A handful of first years in front of them even tried to start a game of gobstones, but the stadium seats were slightly slanted so the stones kept falling and rolling between the students' feet. At least their thwarted efforts gave Draco something to watch for a little while.

Just when he was genuinely considering forming a mutinous mob to batter down the hedge walls, there was a rush of air and Cedric, Potter, and the Triwizard cup appeared on the lawn in front of the maze entrance. It looked like the cup had been a portkey that had transported them from within the maze. It also looked like Potter was totally inept at using portkeys because he landed partially on top of Cedric, grasping his arm for dear life. Typical. Draco couldn't imagine how that dolt had managed to tie with Cedric, one of the most talented students at Hogwarts, but either way he was glad the competition was over so they could all go back to their houses and stop staring at that bloody hedge. But as Draco was reveling in the end of the tournament, he was struck with the realization that Cedric would no longer need his help to practice for any tasks after tonight. It was a surprisingly disappointing and anxiety-provoking thought. Draco resolved to come up with numerous excuses for them to still spend time together. Surely the other boy would need to practice for something else. Charms? Defense Against the Dark Arts? It didn't really matter what. He was sure they would figure something out.

The band launched into a triumphant rendition of the Hogwarts March, and the crowds in the stands cheered exuberantly. Draco joined in the jubilation for a moment, but something about the movements on the lawn did not seem right. The professors had all rushed to greet the champions, but Potter was still holding onto Cedric's arm, and Cedric was still lying exactly where he'd landed. Had he been stupefied like Viktor? Or was he injured more seriously? Draco felt a flutter of panic, but quelled it by reminding himself how thoroughly competent the Hufflepuff boy was. After all, he knew better than anyone that Cedric had been prepared to face just about anything.

Draco noticed that the Ravenclaw who'd been reading _The Daily Prophet_ had now pulled out a pair of omnioculars, and watched absently as she focused them on the scene. Suddenly her face blanched. She dropped the viewing glasses to the ground and grabbed onto the student next to her for support. The other Ravenclaw shot her a look of irritation, which was soon replaced with concern, and then what appeared to be horror as she woodenly answered his questions. Draco felt his pace quicken as the fear returned, but surely no matter what happened, the Hogwarts professors could put it to rights. He tried to convince himself that Ravenclaws were high-strung anyway. Too much cleverness for their own good.

Soon whispers were spreading like fiendfyre, first among the other Ravenclaws, but then throughout the stands. As the rumours flew, the band stopped playing in a jumble of disjointed notes, and the sounds of celebration took on a more ominous tone. Nobody seemed quite clear about what had happened, but one thing was certain: something had gone horribly wrong.

The first report Draco heard was that Potter had been killed, but that became an obvious lie when he saw Moody escort the Gryffindor champion back toward the castle. Next he heard that something had happened to Cedric, but he willed himself not to believe it. After all, Madame Pomfrey had erected a white hospital curtain screen on the ground around the older boy. Obviously she just wanted to treat him away from the prying gaze of the entire school. Given the hysteria that was breaking out, Draco couldn't blame her. It would be awfully hard to concentrate on Reenervating someone from a Body-Bind Curse with all that fainting and crying going on. He sincerely wished the rest of the school was as level-headed as he was, and not so quick to believe every bit of gossip they heard. Really, everything would be all right. It had to be all right...

Within moments of the champions' troublesome reappearance, some professor, Draco couldn't see which, began directing students out of the stands and up the path to the castle. The exodus was haphazard, with some spectators remaining frozen in their tracks, while others clambered over them in their rush to get out. Exclamations of shock turned to exclamations of pain as students were trampled beneath the press.

Somehow Draco found himself pushed to the very front railing. Just to his left, Mr. Diggory took advantage of the disarray to vault off of the stands and rush toward the shielded medical area. His wife followed, pulling on his sleeve in an attempt to slow his charge. As Draco watched, Professor Dumbledore emerged from behind the curtain and exchanged a few grave words with them before pulling the curtain aside to grant them entrance. In those few seconds, Draco had a clear view into the swarm of activity behind the screen, and at its center, Cedric. Cedric still on his back gazing sightlessly at the stars. And instantly Draco knew the truth he had been trying so desperately to deny.

Agony ripped through him. As if voicing Draco's own pain, Cedric's father let out an anguished wail that split the night sky, swallowing all other sound. In the vacuum that followed, Draco heard silence. Total desolate silence. Only his heartbeat penetrated the quiet, but even that sounded slow and distant, as though it too wanted to fade away.

The curtain fell closed, and the cacophony of the surrounding chaos crashed over him once more in a deafening wave. He clutched the rail as the world reeled around him. Irregularly gasping for breath, Draco closed his eyes to block out what he'd seen, but the image remained seared in his mind. He was going to be sick.

He pushed through the crowd, fighting simultaneously against the sea of students and of visions that threatened to drown him: Cedric standing up for him in the forest. Cedric thanking him after the second task. Cedric smiling at him earlier that evening... Draco couldn't breathe. He had to get out of the crush or he'd suffocate.

Heedless of the angry shouts directed at him, he forced his way out of the stadium and took advantage of the night's darkness to dart up an alternate route to the castle. Without thinking, his steps took him up a flight of stairs, away from the Slytherin common room where he knew his housemates would be gathering. He ducked into a nearby door to avoid being noticed by a prefect and found himself in the deserted second-floor girls' lavatory. Luckily Myrtle was nowhere to be seen.

Draco walked shakily to the bank of sinks and gazed at himself in the mirror, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The more he tried to thrust aside the emotions, the more difficult it became. He slammed his fist into the sink basin. The physical pain numbed everything else, so he punched it again and again, until he noticed smears of blood staining its worn stone. He looked down to survey the damage he'd inflicted on himself, and happened to catch sight of the small scar that remained from where Cedric had mended his hand so many months ago.

Suddenly he couldn't contain it anymore. The shattered pieces of himself that he had fought so hard to hold together splintered into a million shards. Despair tore through him, and he sank to the ground, racked with uncontrollable sobs. Cedric was dead.


	12. Chapter 12

Draco wasn't sure how much time had passed. He was still curled on the bathroom floor, but the sobbing had given way to paralyzed desolation. He stared blankly at the stalls in front of him, hugging his knees, fading in and out of conscious thought. From time to time he noticed where he was and would resolve to return to the Slytherin quarters, mentally berating himself for being so weak. But he didn't actually move. If he left the dark solitude of the lavatory, he would be faced with the fact that he would never again run into Cedric walking those familiar hallways. Hogwarts felt as empty as he did.

Suddenly, he heard a small "Pop!" and Tottie, the new Malfoy family houself, appeared in front of him. Draco raised his head slightly, but returned to his catatonic contemplation. She shuffled her feet nervously and stared at the ground, while picking at the edge of her dingy grey smock.

"Young Master Draco," the elf whispered, still fidgeting apprehensively. "My mistress..." The rest trailed off into inaudible mumbling, too quiet to make out, but the reference to his mother pulled Draco partway out of his trance.

"What? Tottie, I can't hear you."

Tottie let out a squeak. She dashed to the nearest stall door and began banging it forcefully against her head. "Tottie is so sorry. (Wham!) She is a bad elf. (Wham!) Always too quiet. (Wham!) So sorry for causing master trouble-"

"Tottie, stop!" Draco snapped tiredly. She let go of the door. "Don't apologize. Just speak louder."

"MY MISTRESS IS ASKING MASTER DRACO TO TALK WITH HER THROUGH HIS MIRROR. SHE IS WAITING FOR HIM AND IS WANTING TO KNOW WHY HE IS NOT RESPONDING BECAUSE SHE IS TRYING TO REACH HIM FOR A LONG TIME."

Draco belatedly covered his ears. No doubt the entire castle was awake now. He should have known she would interpret his words in the most literal way possible. It was rather remarkable elves had survived this long, given their limited cognitive capacities. When it was clear she had finished shouting, Draco removed his hands from his ears.

"Why does she want to talk to me, Tottie?" The elf took a big breath and opened her mouth wide, but Draco cut her off. "And don't yell, just talk."

She scuffed her feet and looked at him hesitantly. "I is not knowing, sir. My mistress is only saying that it is urgent, but that young master is not to worry about his father."

He furrowed his brows in confusion. "Why would I worry about my father? Has something happened to him?"

"Tottie is not sure. Mistress is not..." Tottie's voice trailed off again, but when she glanced at Draco's scowl, she hurriedly increased her volume. "Mistress is not telling her. Only that Master Draco is not to worry about his father in the graveyard."

Draco's eyes widened. "What graveyard?" he asked cautiously.

"Tottie does not know," she squeaked fearfully. "Just that young master's mother is needing to talk to him because his father is in the graveyard."

This had to be a nightmare. There couldn't possibly be this much random tragedy in one day. But if it was a dream, why did he feel so exhausted? And why were his hands throbbing? If it wasn't a dream, then that meant that his father was also-

Everything went completely still inside him. He stood up abruptly but the bathroom seemed to sway before him, so he grabbed the ledge of a sink to steady himself and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he opened them, the house-elf was staring at him with a worried expression.

"You can go home now," he said flatly. "I'm going to go talk to Mother." She nodded with relief and vanished with a snap of her finger. He stood leaning against the sink trying to think clearly, but everything was tangled. None of his thoughts made sense, and when he tried too hard to focus on any one of them, his entire mind would go blank. In fact, it was strange how completely blank he felt overall, as he had been drained of all emotions.

He strode out of the lavatory and found himself hurrying through the corridors toward the Slytherin dungeon. He paused in front of the hidden entrance to the common room.

"Glory!" he recited, but the door remained shut. He frowned in puzzled frustration before realizing that it was probably past midnight, so there would be a new password. He cast about for plausible choices.

"Cunning! Ambition! Cleverness!" Nothing changed. Anxiety flickered within him. He kicked the panel angrily. "Snakes!" Still nothing. In desperation, he pointed his wand at the place where the door should be.

"Listen, you know I live in Slytherin; I'm a bloody Malfoy! I need to get into this godforsaken tower right now, so if you don't let me in, I swear I'll blow a hole in you so big you'll look like a gateway for giants!"

Grinding noisily in protest, the door slid open and he dashed through it, across the common room, and down the hallway to his dormitory. Before entering his room, he paused to quiet his pounding heart, and then gently swung the door open. In the murky green shadows it was hard to make anything out clearly, but the sound of steady breathing accompanied by intermittent snores indicated that his roommates were all sound asleep. He tiptoed to the trunk beside the bunk-bed he shared with Crabbe. Draco always kept his belongings strictly neat and well-organized, a habit his housemates teased him for, but it served him well now. Within seconds he was able to locate the two-way mirror in one of the inner compartments, right where it was supposed to be.

It was emitting a steady hum, indicating a missed correspondence, so he wrapped it in a sweater to muffle the sound and quickly left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He hurried back down the hallway to the common room. He figured it was far enough away from the other sleeping quarters that nobody would hear him from there, and it was unlikely that anyone else was up at that hour to interrupt him.

Draco crossed to the far side of the room, dropped into an overstuffed leather chair, and unwrapped the mirror, staring at it. His own empty expression stared back at him. Now that he had the mirror in his hands, he didn't want to use it. If he never talked to his mother, then he could just go to bed and wake up in the morning to find that everything had been a hallucination. But if he had to say any of it out loud, then somehow it would be real. For several long moments Draco remained immobilized, but eventually the uncertainty got the best of him. He needed to know about his father.

He took a deep breath and firmly stated, "Narcissa Malfoy." The image of his drawn face became a blur. When the image refocused, the eyes looking back at him were no longer his own icy blue ones, but his mother's deep sapphire.

"Oh thank goodness Draco! I was so worried something had happened to you!" his mother gushed. "Why didn't you answer when I tried to reach you?"

Draco frowned and glanced away. "I couldn't hear it."

"I see, well I'd have thought you would be more responsible with your possessions than to have it buried at the bottom of your trunk. Were you asleep when the elf arrived?" He shook his head. "Draco, what in Merlin's name were you doing awake at this hour?"

"I... I was in the lavatory," he mumbled.

"Oh. Well in any case, I trust she relayed my message about your father?" Draco looked up abruptly. He nodded his head slowly, steeling himself for what was to follow. "You look concerned, but you needn't be. The elf was to tell you not to worry, but no doubt that slipped her feeble mind. No matter. In short, your father's long years of service have not gone unnoticed. The Dark Lord has welcomed him back."

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. The Dark Lord? What was she on about? Maybe he really had fallen asleep because this night was making less and less sense. His mother was smiling proudly at him but he couldn't return her exultant expression. She appeared to sense the disconnect between them and cocked one eyebrow at him.

"You do know about the graveyard and the Dark Lord's return, of course? I imagine the entire school has been buzzing with it since that weasel Potter made his extremely unlikely escape." Draco continued to frown. Did this mean his father was alive after all? His mother seemed cavalierly cheerful about the whole thing, so he must be. The dread that had been holding his feelings at bay began to melt. His hands started shaking. Draco exhaled slowly and tried to think rationally in an effort push back the impending flood of emotions. It still didn't make any sense. All he could discern was that his father and some apparently undead version of Lord Voldemort had been doing something in a graveyard, something with Potter. But if he had been with Potter that meant he had been there when...

In the hours he spent on the cold stone floor of the lavatory, he hadn't bothered to speculate much about the cause of the Hufflepuff champion's death. But now that he thought about it, he realized it couldn't have just been a freak accident as he'd absently assumed. Cedric was too good for that.

"What happened to Cedric?" He hadn't meant to ask the question, but it poured out of him before he could stop it. Suddenly he felt a burning need to understand what had happened, to understand why he would never see his friend again.

His mother looked at him quizzically. "Who? Oh, you mean the Diggory boy. I agree that was unfortunate; he was from such an old wizarding family after all." Draco didn't care about Cedric's blood purity. He could have been from Hermione Granger's family for all the difference it made in the end.

"What happened to him?" he asked pointedly.

"There's no need to be sharp with me, dear," she scolded but Draco continued to stare at her coldly. She pursed her lips and continued. "We can't be entirely sure what happened to the boy since it was before your father was summoned, but he did speak with Peter Pettigrew about it. It appears that the tournament cup was secretly converted to a portkey to transport Potter to the cemetery, but the Diggory boy came along as well. When Peter walked toward them, they threatened him with raised wands but before he had a chance to disarm them, Potter ducked down, leaving the other boy standing alone. Your father wasn't clear on why exactly the other boy was killed. Peter has always been a jumpy fellow, thanks to his rodent instincts. He probably became alarmed by the sudden movement and fired the curse without thinking. A mistake, surely, but he did successfully carry out the more important tasks of the evening..."

His mother continued to talk. Something about a ceremony and the Dark Lord rising from a cauldron, but Draco barely heard her. He was absorbed in the scene she had just created. He could feel it all: The champions' confusion as they landed without warning in a graveyard. Their apprehension as they noticed Pettigrew's figure approaching through the cold night mist. He could see Cedric mutter words of encouragement to Potter as they raised their wands to defend themselves from the advancing stranger. As Pettigrew continued to draw closer though, Potter mentally calculated his odds and chose to create a distraction by dropping to the ground. Cedric misinterpreted the action and worried that Potter was injured, so he turned to ask if the other boy was all right, but Potter's sudden motion had also startled Pettigrew, who sent a curse flying at them. As Cedric bent over Potter, he had time enough to glimpse the green flash of dark magic hurtling his way, but not time enough to block it. In his final moment of terror, the last thing he saw was his own shock reflected in Potter's thoughtless eyes.

Draco closed his own eyes tightly. His hands were shaking even more forcefully now, but it was hard to tell because he had balled them into fists partway through his mother's tale. The change in his expression caught his mother's attention and she paused in her flow of narration.

"Draco, are you quite well?" she asked, concerned.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm fine. I'm just... tired."

"Of course, I was forgetting the time. You should be in bed. Just remember, you can share this with Vincent and Gregory because they'll want to know about their fathers' good fortune, but for now keep it at that. We aren't sure who else we can trust yet." Draco nodded numbly. "We'll see you in a few days. Sweet dreams, darling."

His mother's image faded from the mirror and he saw his own haunted expression looking back at him. Draco fervently hoped his sleep would be dreamless tonight, because he was willing to bet the dreams he'd have would be anything but sweet.


	13. Chapter 13

When he looked back, even a month later, Draco found he had only scattered memories of the next few days. It was as if a world that had just begun to dawn was suddenly plunged back into night. One of the most terrible moments, was his accidental meeting with the Diggorys the day after the final task.

Draco was amazed he'd been able to function at all that morning, seeing as he hadn't gotten more than a few minutes of rest. He'd been right about the dreams. Every time he closed his eyes he'd encountered a different scene, all of them equally awful. Sometimes he relived the moment in the stands when he first saw Cedric's lifeless gaze. Other times he was urgently sprinting through empty hallways to try to prevent a death, but he could never find his way. The worst were the graveyard scenes. He watched over and over as Potter startled Peter Pettigrew into killing Cedric. Only sometimes it was Potter who actually killed Cedric, and sometimes it wasn't Cedric but his father who was killed, or who was the one doing the killing. One time when the shadowy figure approached the two Hogwarts students, Draco was horrified to see himself in Pettigrew's place. He woke with a start and looked frantically around him, but the moonlit gravestones had been replaced with trunks and bunk-beds. Inhaling deeply to calm his ragged breathing, he reasoned that at least he hadn't had to witness the end of that scenario.

When the faint light of dawn began to creep across the room, he felt relieved. That had to have been the longest night he had ever experienced. He hoped, hazily, that his sleep-deprived state would make everything seem less real. Then he wouldn't have to think about any of it. He waited for his housemates to wake up, passing time by counting the Slytherin crests on the wall or staring blankly at the bottom of Crabbe's bunk above him. After what seemed like another eternity, the others began to stir.

He got dressed and headed down to breakfast with them in a daze, barely able to follow the conversation. Although, frankly he was glad he wasn't able to since most of it was about what had happened in the maze, and that was the very last thing he wanted to think about, much less chat about over pumpkin juice and muffins. Dumbledore made a brief announcement explaining the events and canceling the Quidditch tournament, but Draco hardly noticed. Luckily it provided ample distraction for the others though, so he managed to make it through the meal without raising suspicion about his silence. Just as they were leaving the Great Hall, Professor Snape walked purposefully toward them and called Draco's name.

Draco had only minimally registered Snape's presence, so he was surprised to hear himself addressed. He looked up foggily. Professor Snape frowned, perplexed by Draco's uncharacteristic demeanor, but he drew him aside anyway. "I need you to find Madame Pomfrey and ask if she has any draughts of the Averitas Potion. Have her bring me as many as she can. I'll be in a meeting with Dumbledore, but she can leave them in my office." He looked at Draco doubtfully. "Did you follow that?" Draco nodded mutely. "Good. I'll expect to hear back before lunch." With that he turned and strode quickly toward the professors' door at the far end of the hall, robes billowing behind him.

For a moment Draco stood idly watching him depart, before he remembered he was supposed to be running Snape's errand. He shook his head in an effort to clear the haze from his mind and set off toward the hospital wing. It took him a long time to reach it because he felt like he was moving in slow motion. Each step was as sluggish as if he were wading through treacle, and the corridors seemed to stretch to the horizon. Finally he arrived in a third-floor hallway that he knew was just around the corner from the double-doors of the hospital wing. He paused to call Professor Snape's instructions to mind so he would be properly prepared to face Madame Pomfrey.

Just as he took a step forward, two adults rushed around the corner and nearly knocked him over. Draco flattened himself against the wall to keep out of their way, and with a jolt recognized Cedric's parents. Mrs. Diggory looked pale and barren, with eyes that were like black holes, simultaneously empty and crushing. In contrast, Mr. Diggory's face was flushed and tear-streaked, with red-rimmed eyes that were even then on the verge of overflowing. When his gaze met Draco's, however, they hardened immediately.

"Come to gloat, have you? Come to rub our noses in what you've done?"

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't know what you're-"

"Of course you know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about Cedric!" Mr. Diggory's voice rose angrily and he took a step toward Draco. Draco pressed himself further into the unyielding wall, but Mrs. Diggory stopped her husband's advance by placing her hand on his arm.

Draco shook his head quickly. "I-I don't understand. Cedric and I, we were-"

"What? Friends?" Mr. Diggory took a step closer so they stood toe to toe. His voice became menacingly quiet. "You might have convinced Cedric of that, but I can see right through you, young Malfoy. You may not have held the wand that did it, but I know somehow you were a part of it, just like your father. You killed my son. You killed Cedric."

Draco's eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Mr. Diggory's words rang in his mind, and his heart pounded the accusations in a rhythmic echo. Suddenly Mr. Diggory's grey eyes were Cedric's, judging him, condemning him. Maybe it _was_ Draco's fault. He had been a distraction. He hadn't practiced the right spells with Cedric. He hadn't warned him about Potter's selfishness. He had caused too much stress with all his quarreling. He had made the wrong choices. He was a bad influence. A bad person. A bad friend.

No, Draco argued with himself, it had been Pettigrew and Potter that had done it, not his father. And certainly not Draco. His brain seemed to be moving as sluggishly as his feet had been, but Draco tried to think logically. How could he escape this conversation? He vaguely recalled having had a negative interaction with Mr. Diggory before. Somehow he had gotten out of that situation, so if he could recall what had happened then, maybe he could use a similar strategy now... All at once the memory flooded back: Cedric had been there. Cedric had rescued him. Cedric had...

The pain Draco had been holding at bay since last night seared through him once more. He clung to the stone wall with his eyes clenched tight. His breathing grew shallow and quick, and the ground felt unstable beneath his feet. If he let go he knew he would start falling and never stop.

From a great distance, he heard Mrs. Diggory's voice. "Amos, dear. Leave the Malfoy boy alone. He will pay the price for his actions, but it isn't your responsibility to make him do so now. Besides, he looks as if he's going to be ill."

The sound of their footsteps retreated down the corridor. Draco forced himself to breathe, to focus on the sensation of the solid rock behind him, to listen to the sound of his hammering heartbeat. If he concentrated on the concrete world around him, he could force the sadness further and further back, until it was compressed into a dense crystal buried deep within him.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, leaning against the cold stone wall, but eventually his breathing steadied and his mind became clearer. He shakily made his way to the infirmary to fulfil Professor Snape's instructions. Maybe he could persuade Madame Pomfrey to give him a potion to keep him from feeling anything ever again.

Madame Pomfrey did not acquiesce to his request, and nightmares continued to haunt his sleep. He kept telling himself that it was weak and pathetic to be so upset. After all, he had only really known Cedric a few months and the other boy had been so popular that he probably had barely noticed Draco... But then Draco would remember the last conversation they'd had together and he would know that wasn't true. Cedric had been his friend, and even if it had only been for a short time, that friendship had meant something.

However, that didn't change the fact that Cedric was gone forever and there was nothing Draco could do about it. At least Draco was becoming better at suppressing the waves of despair that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. He had found that it helped to distance himself in his mind from Cedric. If he didn't think of him as "Cedric," but just "Diggory," it made him seem like just another Hufflepuff, barely worth noticing much less mourning.

In fact, in the days since the final task, Draco had become so adept at masking his true emotions that he was now able to laugh and make biting jokes with the other Slytherins, apparently back to his old self. Only Crabbe had ever noticed anything off in his behavior, but when he commented, Draco was dismissive and said he'd eaten some bad escargot at the Beauxbatons farewell dinner. Luckily Crabbe was either too dense or too afraid of Draco's father to press him further on it, and Draco was able to hide his feelings well enough so that now nothing seemed amiss in his interactions.

Of course, every now and again he would still be surprised by a tidal wave of sadness that he couldn't anticipate. Often it was little things that triggered it, like when he overheard Hagrid mentioning to Madame Poppy how excellent it was to have so few flesh eating slugs in the garden that season. Or when the stairs shifted, causing him to accidentally walk past the Arithmancy room where he'd spent so many afternoons practicing with Diggory. In those moments he had to force himself to breathe, and concentrate on the physical world around him so he could push everything else back. It was fortunate that those times were occurring less frequently now, and when they did he could regain control of himself more quickly.

Luckily he had known this evening's Leaving Feast would be difficult, so he'd been steeling himself for it all day by being particularly caustic. At lunch Goyle had been so stung by one of Draco's retorts that he stumbled out of the great hall before desert. Of course, Draco had then made a nasty joke about how Goyle skipping desert was a miraculous event. His heart wasn't in it, but at least this way he was in control of the emotions around him. And if he could control others' emotions, surely he could control his own. Besides, if everyone was upset at him he would have an excuse to be angry, and being angry was far better than being sad.

But now they were all seated at the Slytherin table awaiting Dumbledore's final address, and Draco had no distractions from himself. He was about to try to deaden his thoughts by counting the floating candles, but then Dumbledore stood up and all gazes became fixed on him.

"The end of another year," Dumbledore paused, looking soberly toward the Hufflepuff table. "There is much I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person who should be sitting here enjoying our feast with us."

Draco could feel his heart begin pounding, but he forced himself to continue staring blankly ahead.

"I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses to-"

Draco inhaled sharply before Dumbledore could say the name. He closed his eyes quickly, reminding himself that Diggory had been just another Hufflepuff, like any of the others. Just a nondescript student from an inconsequential house. He stood up in time to join the others in their toast, concentrating on the sensation of the cold metal of the goblet in his hand so that he barely noticed whose name he said. Draco's mind strayed from Dumbledore's words as they returned to their seats, but was jolted back when he heard the Dark Lord's name.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

The hall broke out into frightened whispers. Draco sat stunned. What was Dumbledore talking about? Draco hadn't been paying close attention to his mother's story, but he was pretty sure that Lord Voldemort hadn't even been brought back yet when Diggory was killed. If he didn't have a body, how could he have held a wand to fire a killing curse? Then Draco remembered it had been Potter who told Dumbledore what happened that night. No doubt Potter had modified the story to fit his own agenda. He had probably neglected to mention his own role Cedric's death. Instead he had conveniently cast the scene as an epic battle between himself and the most powerful wizard in history, rather than as the tragically accidental result of a poorly-timed sudden movement near a twitchy Animagus.

Draco was vaguely aware that Dumbledore was still talking. There was something about "insult to his memory" but then he overheard Goyle mutter to Crabbe that at least Voldemort had made a good start of wiping out the Hufflepuffs.

"You're such an ass, Goyle," Draco hissed. Goyle's eyes opened wide in shock, but Draco ignored him. "You're always wrong. Voldemort didn't even kill Ce- Diggory. It was Potter."

Just as the words had left his mouth, Dumbledore echoed them, saying, "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Draco's head snapped back up. Was Dumbledore going to reveal the truth about Potter's involvement in Cedric's death? Draco glanced toward the Gryffindor table, scowling. It was about time someone put that arrogant prat in his place. Potter was so self-involved he didn't even cared about what had happened to Cedric. Draco could see him now, looking at Dumbledore without any trace of emotion, just as stonily inexpressive as he'd been when he emerged from that maze. However, as soon as Draco registered the words Dumbledore was speaking, his hope for vindication disappeared.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Honor him?! Dumbledore had said it himself, Potter had returned to Hogwarts with Cedric's body. His body! Cedric would have still been alive if it hadn't been for Potter! Why should he be honored just because he'd bothered to bring back the remains of the disaster he'd caused? There was no way Draco was raising his glass to the person responsible for the death of his friend, but Draco certainly hoped Potter had some of that bravery Dumbledore praised him for, because he was going to need it to face what Draco planned to do to him... Draco continued silently seething, oblivious to Dumbledore's speech until a more somber note entered the headmaster's voice and drew him back to the present.

"... Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come to make the choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

Dumbledore sat back down at the head table and students began talking in subdued tones and eating the food they'd barely touched during the headmaster's words. Draco absently pushed the contents of his plate around with a fork while frowning into the distance. None of it made sense. Potter was egotistical and dangerously selfish, and he was lauded as a hero. Cedric had been a talented and selfless leader, and he was dead, banished into the background.

Dumbledore made it sound so simple. There were right and wrong choices. And what was easy was usually wrong. And Lord Voldemort was to blame for everything. However, those ideas didn't match up at all with Draco's experience. According to his parents, Voldemort was ruthless, but he just wanted to ensure that the most deserving wizards had the most decision-making power, including over muggles, whose history clearly demonstrated how inept they were at governing themselves. And despite what everyone, including Cedric, seemed to think, choices weren't that clear-cut. Most choices had the potential to be both right and wrong, and sometimes you really didn't have a choice at all. Even Cedric would acknowledge that he hadn't _chosen_ to be callously killed in a lonely graveyard. That choice had been made for him, just like so many of Draco's.

Not that he wanted to necessarily, but even if Draco did try to choose to follow Dumbledore instead of Lord Voldemort, everyone he cared about would abandon him, including, he had no doubt, his own parents. And for what? For a group of equally flawed wizards who would never accept him because of who his parents were, who he was. So he might as well make the best of the only option he had. At least through Lord Voldemort he could expose Potter's pathological narcissism and put an end to his undeserved hero-worship once and for all.

Dumbledore had told them to remember Cedric Diggory, and Draco certainly would. He would remember Cedric as the most genuinely good person he had ever known, and remember that his life had been carelessly discarded because of Potter. What was right and what was easy. It was such an insipid thing to say. Cedric's death was a lasting reminder of what Draco had always known: No choice really mattered, because in the end nothing was ever right or easy.

Draco grabbed an apple from the fruit arrangement at the center of the table and bit into it forcefully. He had been stupid to think that things would turn out all right. If Draco hadn't let himself act so naive, maybe somehow Cedric would still be alive. Or at the very least Draco wouldn't care so deeply that he wasn't. Remember Cedric Diggory... From now on Draco was resolved not to hope for things he knew he would never have. Whatever was going to come, would come, and if it happened to involve repaying Potter for the life he had stolen, Draco would be ready to meet it when it did.

7

7 


End file.
